


Like Little Toy Soldiers

by jinxette



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Genocide, Injury, Mild Language, Minor Character Death, Not Beta Read, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-30
Updated: 2018-08-19
Packaged: 2019-01-26 19:45:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 44,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12564808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jinxette/pseuds/jinxette
Summary: When they find the beacon, it is old, triggered several months past.  They hold little to no hope that the natives have survived, not after having witnessed the carnage the Galra is capable of.Yet when they land on the dying planet, all is not what it seems. They open a whole new door, and with it, options for winning the war.Shiro is desperate to make the alliance work, especially after his less than perfect experience with one of their own, but that's hard when Lance had to be the idiot that blinded their dragon.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! So, first of all, thanks for taking an interest in this story! I hope you enjoy the prologue! This is my first ever fan-fiction work that I have the guts to post, so be gentle on me. 
> 
> If you enjoy it, i hope you're in for the long haul, as this story has quickly exploded into a huge major work without my knowledge or control. I have several chapters written out already as well as a general plot line to follow up until the most recent season, so I'm hoping if enough people are interested to keep to a twice monthly update. This story is very well thought out, at least I'd like to think so, as I've taken careful precautions and time and effort to create not only original characters, but also a whole new alien species and culture. 
> 
> As for canon compliance, this story will follow fairly closely to canon. It's currently early season 2, but I don't plan on talking much at first about canon. Things and events will be mentioned, but for the most part, canon events will not be explained in detail until much later. I've taken some creative liscensing and took my own spin on things, particularly the background of the lions. Mostly because I started righting this months before the creators revealed the canon take on the creation of lions. There's some holes in the canon version that I don't like, even though I do quite love the canon depiction!
> 
> As such, since I'm new to this whole letting the public see my work, I'm open for suggestion and tips and always a beta reader! I try my best to keep characters true to themselves, but that's a bit hard for me with others. This story has some dark themes tied to it, especially later on, so the rating is tentative unless you, my lovely audience, have suggestions for it.
> 
> Also, I'm using Altean time measurements as the official wiki defines them.
> 
> Anyway, enough with my rambling! Things really pick up next chapter, so bare with me! On with the story!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A beacon is found from an age old ally of the Alteans, but is anyone still alive?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: Mild Violence, Semi-graphic depiction of wounds, Blood, Minor Character Death
> 
> [Tumblr](https://jinxetta.tumblr.com/)

The smoke is clogging his lungs, thick and heavy. The fires crackle around him, breaking great trees and sending showers of sparks into the air that alight on his dark skin. The embers fade away so fast that his body registers the sharp pinpricks of pain only after they flicker out of existence. Each breath is a struggle and his broken ribs are a fire of their own, raging war under his skin on his body. His chest can’t fully expand with half his ribcage partial mush. Broken bones for his people can be deadly and he knows he’s on borrowed time. Even if he didn’t have to fight, he knows his life is drawing to a close. He dutifully ignores his pain, clutching the precious cargo in his arms to his chest with bruising force. 

The sobbing child burrows into the junction of his shoulder, smearing blood from her bleeding nose across his neck. She’s small for her age, and if he didn’t recognize her he would have assumed she was years younger than she truly was.

The sounds of fighting around him are loud; he can hear the explosive growls and battle cries of his people fighting. He cannot join the fray yet, he has to get the child to safety. He’s figured out what the Galra are planning; they have already lost most of the males guards, and the children are being slaughtered on sight. He had witnessed earlier a young apprentice being hauled off as she shrieked in terror, but everyone else has been slaughtered. He’d been unable to do anything before she’d been tucked away on a pod. They are targeting males foremost, using their instinctual desire to protect any and all the females with a vengeance. They know the Guardians are slaves to instincts and that it makes them blind and easy to herd. 

It makes them easy to kill.

This isn’t some random attack or them trying to quell a non-existent rebellion. They aren’t taking prisoners.

They have come to destroy. They plan on leaving nothing.

He’s already failed three children, he will not fail a forth.

A Garla soldier appears in front of him, sword drawn. He leaps back, twisting his hips so the sword arcs through the air just shy of striking down the child in his arms. She wails as tiny soft claws clutch at his blood stained shirt in terror. He tries to draw upon his power, but the child has him distracted and he has no weapon on hand other than what nature gave him in his own claws. He ducks under a swing, nearly tripping in his haste. He charges forward, hating that he has to be a coward, him a warrior, but he has a more important duty. 

He sees her ahead, his partner, fighting through a crowd of drones as she struggles to reach him. “Bali! To me!” He calls out, watching the great horned head spear through metal. The ivory horns are stained purple with blood and her wild mane is dyed black with oil. Soot streaks her silver body in dark smears and he can see wounds of her own weeping red. She lands a kick with both sets of her powerful hind legs to a drone and finally clears a path. She charges forward with a squeal, leg feathers flashing red in her anger. She lowers her head as she charges past him and tramples his pursuer with sharp, cloven hooves. She wastes no time in turning back to him. He throws the child in his arms on her great sloping shoulders; he smiles when the child wraps her hands into the vines weaved into his Guardian’s mane. The thick mane has been pulled somehow during the fighting, so that it no longer stretches down her whole back. 

“Thris!” Bali calls back, small ears twisting back and forth nervously. She is not a fighter, this goes against her nature, but she is a Guardian and fights for her planet when needed. Her short tail lashes behind her as she dances about her hooves nervously. She’s angled her head up and back so the child is cradled between the great rack that runs as long as her spine. “We must go! Squad Alpha has fallen, Denai is grown silent.” 

Thris looks around, notices that there are more of his people on the ground than the Galra. Denai falling means the end for a lot. It has been a long time since a deity of old has been killed. Thris sees the blazing green light of a deity, one who is made for fighting, and points to what he knows is a safe haven. He grabs the horns of his Guardian and twists her to look at him. His strength is quickly waning. “There, to Noctis! He’s still fighting.”

Bali’s mutli-faceted eyes are unreadable as Thris presses his forehead to her long face. One of the pebbles on her face has cracked. “I will not leave you,” she practically snarls.

“You must,” Thris implores, a bloody hand cradling her cheeks. They’ve been together for so long; it’s a physical pain to even think of what he’s asking of her. He can feel the gentle nudge of her mind against his. Bali is not one to take a Keeper lightly and they’ve bonded deeply over the many years. “You must see that Sen and her get out; I’d never be able to look Daven in the eye again if his brother was killed.”

Bali whines, her muscles quivering and feathers flashing so many colors, he cannot name them. The drones draw closer.

“Bali, please,” Thris pleads, his hands fisting the vines in her mane. He pours every ounce of what he is feeling into their bond, begging her to see reason. The child is sobbing against her neck, her body quivering. Her fear turns her scent sour and Bali’s struggling to fight the animal instinct to run. 

Bali looks away to the sounds of Noctis’s bellows.

Thris sees when she makes the choice. Her eyes harden and look at him. Thris releases her and she steps back. She lowers her head to the ground, her body following the bow, one leg curled under her, the other spread forward, and cheek pressed to the ground. The great horns brush the ground behind her and she repeats the action so her other cheeks touches the ground. The horns slice the air when she rises, rocking her body back and trumpeting her call. The child clings to her like a leech in fear. She turns her long face back to nuzzle at her precious cargo, wiggling her lips against a petite foot. The black lines that encircle the girl’s ankle begin to glow and shift to make a ring of leaves. 

Thris feels his heart break as he watches his deity mark the child, feeling the beginning of their bond’s breakdown in the distancing of Bali’s thoughts growing darker. She looks at him then presses the flat of her forehead and nose against his chest. He wraps his arms around her, his best friend for nearly thirty decafeebs, his partner in crime. 

He’s helped bring life into the nature around them, helped coax the trees into dormancy for winter, helped herald the beginning of new green buds for spring. She’s helped his mate through the rough bearing of his son, welcomed the son into the world as only deities can. They’ve seen the wonders of the universe together, seen what her presence has influenced in other cultures. . She’s so much more.

“It has been an honor,” Bali says, her voice warping, “to serve with you, my partner, my equal, Thris, son of Rizon, Keeper of Bali, Deity of Nature and Life. I will forever sing songs of praise of your glory and your sacrifice. Die well, and return to the well from which you came. We will meet again one day, my friend.”

And like that, she’s charging away. The bond unravels little by little. Thris smiles through his tears and turns to face the line of drones coming around the corner of a village hut. He feels the rush of the final break of the seal, feels Bali’s parting gift of power rush over him. Pebbles erupt on his skin but as far as armor goes, that’s all he will get. 

Thris charges with a war cry to his death.

  


* * *

  


When they first stumble upon the distress beacon, it's by coincidence. They've been Paladins for a while now, long enough that Lance has trouble remembering exactly how many months, weeks, and days it's been. He had stopped counting long ago and the homesickness is a constant thing now. It’s a painful reminder that they had been gone for a long time.

Lance is watching Pidge and Hunk tinker with some modifications to Green. He likes to think he is helping, but after about the fourth time he hands Pidge the wrong tool she asks for, he is sidelined to simply watching. It feels like old times, back at the garrison. He’s pretending to play a game or read a book when he is really listening to the conversations of Pidge and Hunk. He is proud to be the teammate of two genius technological nerds. Of course, every time he tries to say it, it comes out weird and Pidge glares at him or responds with a snarky comment. 

He knows it’s just her peculiar way of showing affection.

“Paladins, to the bridge!” Allura’s voice is loud over the intercom and has everyone rushing to their feet. Work forgotten, Hunk rushes to turn off the blow torch as Pidge slams the monitor on her laptop closed. Lance scrambles to his feet, tripping over his limbs. Pidge groans in exasperation, shoving Lance forward so that he almost nose dives with a yelp. 

They reach the bridge after Shiro, shortly before Keith, which is a miracle. Keith is panting heavily, sweat beading his forehead. 

‘Training again, no doubt,’ Lance thinks. ‘Always training, stupid mullet. He’s like a machine that never stops.’ Lance crinkles his nose at having to stand next to Keith, who glares at him.

“What?” The Red Paladin snaps, rising to the bait before he can stop himself.

“Dude,” Lance waves his hand in front of his nose dramatically, “you train anymore and you’ll be a walking advertisement for deodorant. And not the good part of the commercial. You’ll be the poor kid who can’t find anything that helps his B.O.”

“Lance,” Shiro warns, his voice stopping Keith from snapping back. 

“Paladins,” Allura calls their attention and everyone walks closer to the star map stretched out before her. 

“The first transmission is old,” Coran says from beside Allura. Lance notices a blinking red beacon in a far corner of the galaxy. It’s blinking quickly, which is odd. Most distress beacons that are old blink slow. Coran had said first, though.

“You said, first. They’re sending up more?” Pidge asks in a confused voice. 

Coran nods, “Yes, the most recent transmission is from the last lunar cycle. But I’m not finding any information on any of them other than the time of the latest.”

They've stumbled upon distress beacons before that are old. They've responded to several that turned up dead planets drained of quintessence. They've liberated prisoners taken by the Galra and found them new homes when theirs had been destroyed. 

This one is different. 

“Oh wait, here we are. I’ve found a video feed it appears,” Coran chirps, always too cheerful.

Allura seems edgy and a little more concerned than normal when the star map pinpoints the planet. A small planet, ruled by an overwhelming amount of what Lance assumes is greenery; the trees are an almost cyan color. Whatever water there is on the surface is a soft lavender color. When Coran gasps from her side, rushing forward, Lance knows this is somehow more than a simple distress beacon. 

"Dalquin, Princess-"

"I know, Coran." Allura cuts him off and moves to console, fingers flying across the control panel in front of her to bring up something.

Lance's previous assumptions of things differing this time are right when a video shows up. 

A figure is moving in the background. Lance has a moment to see the light from the console flash on something scarlet. He thinks for a spare moment that the area is on fire.

“It’s recording Isa,” a soft feminine voice says. The flash of red in the background moves and Lance realizes it’s not fire, but a young female with red hair. 

An older woman fills the screen with a grunt, “Good, now get out of here. Hide them and warn the others if you can. Quickly.” 

Lance, being Lance, has a spare moment to think the alien on the screen is cute. He whistles sharply. She has dark hair and tanned skin, totally his type, and is remarkably human. Well, except for the sharp pointed ear that stretches behind her, feline pupils, and sharp fangs. 

Seeing the dark hair woman wounded, Lance quickly shuts his mouth from further comment. Pidge still elbows him in the gut for it, having anticipated his comment. The figure with red hair turns briefly. White feathers are woven into a string that hangs from the tip of a long ear and her face is splatter with blue liquid. That’s the most he can make out before the dark haired woman, Isa, is shoving the younger violently and she disappears off screen, having only been visible for a few spare seconds. 

Isa is covered in what appears to be neon paint, the left side of her neck bathed in it. It seems to originate from her left ear. Or what is left of it. Lance is silent, mostly because Pidge is gripping his arm in a vice; but also because he knows in that moment, he is witnessing someone Voltron has failed.

"Please, if there is anyone out there, you have to help my people. The Galra, they've discovered our location and are after the guardians. They can't have them, they must not ha-" she is cut off, the area around her shaking violently until she cracks her head viciously on the console in front of her. She curses foreignly, a hand at her mouth as she coughs. She’s missing fingers. Something leaks between the remaining fingers, a brilliant cyan. Lance's heart stutters and Pidge gasps beside him. 

The woman on the screen looks behind her, "Bren, hold them off!"

Her voice is sharp with fear. Lance notices deep claw marks behind her neck and a lock of braided hair that is a startling shade of vibrant yellow. A white ribbon is delicately woven into it. There are scales of deep black dotting her shoulder, with an almost rocky texture, dipping beneath the blue speckled white tunic she is wearing. 

Blood stains, his mind supplies belatedly. Her blood is the blue paint spattered around her. They aren't just watching someone they failed. They are watching someone die. Ulaz had just sacrificed himself, but this is different. They’d seen his ship disappear in the pocket fold, but it had been remotely tame.

There hadn’t been blood, not like this. 

Allura makes a sound of pain and recognition at the sight of the scales, "Coran, she's a-"

Coran nods solemnly, "Yes, she’s of Lein blood."

The fact the paladins know nothing of what they are talking about is killing Lance. Keith opens his mouth to protest, but the woman is speaking again, her pale eyes alight with pure panic. For a brief moment, her eyes remind him of Allura; her pupils are white.

"They've killed most of the warriors. The keepers have fallen and Malea is still missing.” Shiro stiffens a tightening of muscles that draws his shoulders back. Keith is always hyper aware of their leader and he glances at him. For Lance to notice, though, it’s an obvious reaction. “I’m all that’s left. Tyan is silent; he does not heed my call." 

A man is screaming somewhere off screen, cut off sharply. Hunk is breathing heavily at the implication. Lance wonders if the yellow paladin is about to hurl, but can't tear his eyes off the video feed. Isa gasps loudly, bending over and clenching at her chest. "No," she whispers just as a Galra soldier, clenching a short dagger, takes up the screen. No drones? She does nothing as the purple alien grabs her hair, pulls her neck back. The soldier looks at the screen, grinning wickedly. The woman's eyes are dull and defeated. 

"Too late, Voltron," his dagger slices the woman's throat, splattering the feed with thick neon liquid before it goes dark.

Lance is clenching his fists so hard his hands are shaking. He can hear Hunk behind him, heaving. He winces. Keith is grinding his teeth so hard, Lance's own jaw hurts. Shiro is frozen, breathing fast and Pidge is pale, shaking at Lance’s side.

They are all silent. Coran speaks from beside the princess, having taken her place at the control panel when they last spoke. "The transmission is not dated."

Lance pales, because his mind is running. They know it is an old transmission, "The soldier mentioned us, by name."

Keith blinks, turning to gaze sharply at Lance. It isn’t very often Lance speaks in such a serious tone. Keith whips his head around to Coran and Allura. "How long have we been here?!" 

"Six months," Pidge's voice is quiet, because of course, Lance laments it would be Pidge who knows. Little brat probably has a timer somewhere in Earth time counting down the seconds they’ve spent from home. She’s after her family after all and every second spent saving others is a second her family isn’t safe. Shiro is visibly stricken and stumbles back until he hits a wall. His eyes are far away. 

This isn't the first time they've seen death up close, but with the reactions from Allura and Coran, it seems to hit home harder. 

"This happened after we first formed Voltron." Hunk mentions, voice shaky and rough from vomiting. 

"Allura, Coran? What's going on? You knew that woman. You mentioned Lein blood?" Keith is surprisingly calm, probably just as confused as all of them. Lance glances at him. He’s glaring sharply at the blank screen like he can leap through it.

Allura isn't the one to answer from her position in her knees. It's Coran. "The Queen was from a blood line descendent of a man named Lein."

Shiro looks up, eyes wide. "The Queen?"

"Yes," Allura says quietly. "She was not full Altean. My mother was part Dalquinian."

The silence is deafening. Even Lance doesn't dare say a joke. There's something in the way Allura says it that lets him know the Queen's death is not a topic to be discussed freely. He knows almost instinctively that the Queen did not die during the war, but before. 

Lance wants to be proud of himself for one upping Keith, the Paladin of Instinct, but he can't bring himself to crow about it; even when he clamps a hand over Keith's mouth to stop him from saying something abrasive. 

  


* * *

  


They are gathered in the common area with Coran. Allura is alone somewhere in the castle, having disappeared shortly after announcing they will be going to Dalquin. No one says anything, too afraid to say out loud that it is indeed too late for at least the woman on the screen, the man she called Bren, and the red haired girl. The plan is to open a worm hole, jump to a nearby system, and then travel to the planet once they confirm the area is safe. 

"Dalquin was a close ally to Altea. We are distantly related even," Coran mentions. "We don't know much about the Dalquinians, regardless. The Queen being of Dalquin blood was private knowledge, to keep our alliance secret mostly. The Dalquinians were always a very secretive race. They were explorers and enjoyed studying other races, but never liked to leave a large impact in the world. What we do know is considered common knowledge. But they played a large part in creating Voltron. The lions are sentient because of them. Their 'Guardians' are self-aware deities. Essentially, they are the spirits they worship, but for some reason they have an actual physical form and protect the Dalquins and the planet."

“So they’re like Gods?” Lance asks, legitimately confused. He was raised to believe in one God, but he knows there are several religions on Earth that have several gods and goddesses like Greece and Rome. 

Hunk nods. “It sounds like it. I don’t think they really are gods; chances are they are just supernatural creatures that have powers they couldn’t explain. So they worshipped them because it makes more sense to play on the good side of an animal that might like you for dinner if you piss it off.”

Keith grunts, head thrown back against the couch to stare at the ceiling. He doesn’t want to be here for this, but Coran insisted. Everyone needs a briefing on the situation. This, unfortunately, includes a lesson in what little the Alteans know of Dalquinian culture.

“That woman, she mentioned warriors,” Pidge said, not bothering to look up from her tablet as she works on a sensor. No doubt she is writing down notes too.

“Yes, the Dalquinians had warriors. They were a peaceful, reclusive race, but they had protectors. They were beings gifted with the ability to take on the powers of their ancestors’ chosen deity. They could then harness their natural powers like strength, heightened smell, and such to help protect their people. They are fearless warriors with animal instincts that guide them,” Coran pulls up a still frame of the woman. “My personal experience with the younger members left much to be desired. Sometimes I would wonder if they existed for the sole reason as to give trouble makers something to do. They were quite rowdy.”

Lance tries not to stare at the blood on Isa’s face. It’s unsettling that such a beautiful color, his color even, is such a horrible sign that something is so wrong. Blue should be the color of calm, serenity. It’s the oceans of home, the color of life giving liquid. 

‘Well, I guess it is a life liquid in this case,’ he thinks bitterly.

Coran points to the woman’s scales that are currently hidden behind her back. “Those of Lein blood pay respect a deity called Tyan. These tattoos,” he points to yellow lines on her skin that Lance had not noticed before. They dot her collar bones and swirl up her neck to loop her ears and stop at her temples, “mark her place in warrior hierarchy and status in the community. The braid indicates she’s mated. She probably was settling down for a family life soon.”

Lance winces, looking down at his clasped hands. The screen flickers through still shots slowly until a flash of red catches their attention. Keith leans forward, eyes glistening as he eyes the color he has come to identify as his. He points.

“And her?”

Coran leans forward to gaze intensely before shrugging. “I don’t know. She has no visible signs of being a warrior. She has no nadi but this is a poor image,” Keith frowns at the foreign word, to which Coran points to his shoulder. Oh, like the tattoos on the woman. “She’s young; chances are she’s just a normal civilian. She’s one of the few they have capable of working the tech. Unfortunate that such a youngster fell so soon.”

Keith growls, standing up, “I can’t do this right now.”

Hunk leans back, scrubbing his face with one hand. Lance stifles a wince at the thought of the oils he’s pushing in his pores. Lance watches Keith stalk off, pouting and pointing at him. “Hey, not fair! If Keith doesn’t have to be here for this, I’m going as well. Shiro isn’t even here either!” Lance stands up and stalks out as well, ignoring Hunk and Pidge’s cries of protest.

  


* * *

  


Keith ducks and curses under his breath as he blinks through the sweat in his eyes. He spins around, raising his sword just in time to block a strike from the gladiator. They stall against each other for a moment, catching the staff with the hilt of his sword. Keith’s arms strain against the unrelenting weight of the machine before he shoves forward with all his strength, swinging his arm sideways. The gladiator’s weapon is diverted. He dives into a roll between the gladiator’s feet, hearing the staff hit the ground heavily behind him. Keith swipes his sword around at the gladiator’s feet as his momentum from his roll brings him back to his feet. He manages to knock the gladiator down and springs forward, quickly bringing the sword down on the machine’s head to win the simulation. The gladiator bursts into multicolored pixels and disappears. He hears the chime of the computer announcing his victory. Keith takes a moment to catch his breath, swiping at his forehead to clear the sweat form his eyes.

He’s not sure how long he’s been at this, but he is growing tired and just about ready to call it quits.

It’s when he hears the door close, not open, that Keith realizes he isn’t alone. Keith looks up to spot Shiro watching him. Shiro smiles distractedly and Keith frowns, standing up. He takes in Shiro’s appearance, noting he seems more tired than usual and edgy. He has been since the distress signal, actually. 

Shiro tosses Keith a towel as he approaches, upon which Keith grunts his thanks. Keith rubs the towel on his face then drapes it around his neck as he picks up a water pouch. 

“Getting even quicker it looks like,” Shiro comments, grinning like his normal self for a brief moment. 

Keith knows small talk when he sees it. “You wanna’ talk about it? You’ve been on edge.”

Shiro sighs. “Not really, no. But I can’t really fool you, can I?”

Keith tilts his head, frowning. Shiro looks down at his hand, his Galra one, and flexes the fingers, bringing a tight fist up to look at it even closer. Keith watches the movement, waiting.

“It’s the name. Malea,” Shiro’s voice is tight and Keith feels that familiar anger rising. He knew it, Shiro had startled at the name, and judging by his sour expression, it has something to do with his time captured and forced to entertain as a Galra gladiator. The name isn’t one Allura and Coran recognized, but it shouldn’t be a surprise. Not many races have natural life spans long enough to last the time the two Alteans spent in cryo-stasis. But it’s easily agreed as a whole, that the name is of someone who may have helped in the Dalquinians time of need, someone they needed desperately.

“Shiro, don’t-“ Keith starts, because he knows what trying to grasp for the lost memories does to Shiro. He can’t stand watching Shiro spiral down into the memories, see the tension causing his whole body to tremor with effort. 

Shiro cuts him off, his grey eyes wild with grief. “I have to Keith, she-“ He breaks off, sighing heavily and leaning against the wall of the training room behind him. 

“I can’t remember everything but,” Shiro clenches his eyes tight, his hand trembling with how tightly his grip is, “I remember...laughing I guess? I remember fighting, screaming...her screams I think.” Shiro’s voice wavers, looking up at Keith, a little lost. “We’re about to go to a planet, her planet, in the hopes that someone has survived and I get to tell them that the one person who could have possibly saved them is dead. Because I killed her.”

“No,” Keith answers immediately, vehemently, because he knows Shiro. Shiro would never harm someone like that. 

Shiro shakes his head, his mouth quirking minutely at the corner at Keith’s blind loyalty to him. “Yes, Keith. I think...I think we fought together in the ring. Where I was Champion. You don’t know the Galra there Keith. It was me or her.” Shiro’s voice is flat, defeated. The memories may still be a blur and questionable, but now that he’s talking about it, it brings back other things he does remember, vividly so. “When a gladiator failed to die in the ring, when they fell and were unable to continue because of injury, they were not disposed of kindly. I think...I did it to save her the fate of so many others. At least-“

“Stop! There’s no way you would have done something like that, even if she was begging you to do so,” Keith snarls, grabbing Shiro’s shoulders and shaking them sharply. It is enough to snap Shiro out of his daze, but the bitter smile Shiro gives him makes Keith’s heart sink.

For a brief moment, Keith feels doubt creep upon his mind.

“Beg? Never her,” Shiro murmurs softly and pushes past Keith, leaving the room quickly.

Keith is left alone to battle with his thoughts, fears, and doubts.


	2. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The planet is all but abandoned, not even nature seems to be untouched by the Galra, but Allura refuses to leave the dying planet without a thorough search.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is a few days early, but I know the prologue was very anti-climatic and mostly about information. So here's one more then we finally get to some action next chapter!
> 
> Despite my efforts to keep my first author's note pretty small, I did leave out some info. my take on the paladins will show a good deal more mature behavior. I try to keep everything light and true to character, but its my belief that after being in a war for so long, they are more likely to show mature tendencies than canon lets on.
> 
> [Tumblr](https://jinxetta.tumblr.com/)

The jump to the solar system Dalquin resides goes smoothly. 

There are no Galra ships in orbit around the planet, nor near any of the surrounding planets. When they try to scan the planet from afar, the scans bring back nothing. The storms billowing in dark black clouds across the green-blue and pale purple planet are interfering with the long-range scanners. Hunk and Pidge take reading after reading, trying to discern the cause, but come up with nothing. The surrounding planets are void of life, most reduced to floating asteroid clusters. Being so close to the galaxy of Altea has a visible effect on Allura. 

She’s desperate to land, but knows better than to go against Coran’s advice. They decide to go ahead with the plan for Pidge to drop a sensor. The castle scans can’t get past the dense atmosphere and the readings they are getting are not helpful in the slightest other than to say the planet is a ticking time bomb of electrical storms.

It was always a plan to drop a sensor with Green, to get more accurate readings while staying out of Galra sight. Now it looks like it’s the only way they’ll get any information.

The blip drop, however, does not go smoothly.

When Pidge first enters the planet’s atmosphere, she hovers for nearly an hour in the nearest layer above the electrical storms, waiting with baited breath for a breach in the storms. The readings surge before her eyes, as if creating a barrier that will not admit entry. Green is too wary to allow her paladin to drop them into the clouds. After a while, the readings fall enough for Pidge to descend through a small pocket, like the eye of a storm. She slams the control sticks forward, hoping to speed through the small pocket of still air.

The blip falls, but Pidge almost crashes to the planet’s surface when the electrical arches of energy nearly fry Green’s circuits. It’s like it’s an entity of its own mind, chasing after her. As soon as Pidge manages to literally crawl her way out of the storm into the outer edges of the atmosphere, her lion settles and the warning alarms going off in her cockpit sputter out. 

They all watch with baited breath as the blip falls, barely managing to get any readings before something goes wrong. The sensor stops relaying shortly before it hits the ground.

The only good thing out of the experience they get is that there are no Galra signatures on the planet, not even residual frequencies. It appears the Galra have abandoned the planet.

There is a disturbing lack of other information that could hint to the planet’s own quintessence levels and other forms of life.

Allura isn’t satisfied. They make a plan to send down a three-person team to assess the planet’s overall well-being and possibly search for survivors. Pidge and Hunk will remain in the castle to oversee any information gleaned. Lance, Keith, and Shiro will descend in the Red Lion to the surface. Allura and Coran hope the Red Lion’s speed will get them through the electrical storms quicker than the storms can harm the lion.

Keith grunts, bent over at the waist as he buckles the clasp to the plate of armor that covers his right thigh. Lance is, for once, the first to be suited up and out in the hall of the joint pseudo locker room. Keith can hear him move about outside, stretching and giving himself, of all things, a pep talk.

Shiro is fiddling with the vambrace of his left arm, the fingers of his Galra hand twitching. Sweat beads his brow; it’s obvious to Keith that Shiro does not want to be here. Keith turns to stare at his helmet for moment, sitting beside him on the bench. The light on the sides of the helmet flickers faintly. 

“You didn’t kill her.” Keith says, grabbing his helmet and shoving it on his head. Shiro glances up sharply at Keith, his brow furrowed. He opens his mouth to reply, but Keith charges forward, poking a finger in his leader’s chest, “no, even if you think otherwise, I know you. It wasn’t you who shoved her in the arena. You did not kill her. The Galra did.”

Keith stalks past him and a confused Lance who had heard their conversation. 

“Whoa, hey wait!” Lance scrambles after him, glancing over his shoulder at Shiro, frozen solid where he stands.

It takes a moment, but Keith can almost hear the grateful smile in Shiro’s soft chuckle, in the way his footsteps sound much more confident when he follows Keith and Lance to Red.

They enter Red’s hanger with a purpose, Keith immediately striding up to the small crimson lion. Red is crouched, like she knows what’s going on before Keith can relay anything to her. A mental picture flashes across Keith’s vision, gone so quickly he can’t remember what it was of. Keith understands regardless. Red knows she’s going to the planet that is responsible, in part, for her creation.

“Hey Princess,” Keith asks over the communications as Lance and Shiro file into Red’s open jaws. Keith follows behind, watching as Lance and Shiro buckle in to the extra seats that had been hiding in a secret compartment somewhere within Red. “Why would the Galra wait so long to attack such a vital ally to the Alteans?”

Lance makes a noise of wonder, “Yea, Mullet’s right.” Keith twitches at the name, protesting halfheartedly. “It doesn’t make sense. Why wait 10,000 years to take down a species that helped create Voltron?”

The comms crackle emptily for a moment. Allura’s soft voice lilts in over the comms, “He didn’t know. Only a select people knew of Dalquin’s involvement in Voltron, mostly the current rulers, heirs, and advisors. And of course, the Dalquinians themselves. I suspect he found out some way, maybe through torturing one of their warriors or some other means.”

Keith grunts as he sits down in his pilot’s chair, reaching out to touch the panels and controls in front of him as Red’s systems come to life. “You don’t think perhaps they were betrayed?”

“No,” Allura answers almost too quickly, “You don’t understand how loyal these people are to each other and their planet, their deities. To betray the mass, it’s like killing off parts of your own self.”

Keith blinks, frowning. He’s not sure he’d ever understand what it’s like to be that loyal to someone. Well, okay, maybe to one person, maybe even a handful, but a whole society? A whole planet? Yea, Keith’s not buying it, but he doesn’t comment on it.

Red roars to life and Keith can feel her energy through their bond, her desire to fly as quickly as possible to the planet awaiting them below. She’s antsy just like them, having been cooped up in the castle walls too long. Keith lets a grin slowly pull at his lips, and without a warning, slams the controls forward. Red exits the hanger bare seconds after the doors open just enough, leaving Lance hollering indignantly about the sudden surge forward that slams him against the back of his seat.

“Worst! Pilot! Ever!”

  


* * *

  


The descent to the planet is just as rough as they thought it would be.

The storms appear to have dissipated some, but when Red breaks through the atmosphere, it does not stay quiet. The wind gusts and electrical readings surge with vengeance the minute Red slips into the clouds. Keith struggles to keep Red in a controlled descent, but the lion quickly intervenes when human piloting alone is not enough.

The cabin lights up around them in red lights, warnings flashing across the screen. 

Keith grits his teeth and suddenly, the cockpit is plunged into darkness. Something seems to strike his lion bodily, sending her tail over snout. Keith’s body snaps forward, then jerks back, his head cracking sharply into the seat back behind him. Bright little lights dance across his vision, lighting the darkness, but Keith pushes the pain aside until his bleary eyesight clears.

“Red!” Keith shouts, his newly claimed vision once more blinded by the lighting flashing all around them. Red is silent, free falling for a few spare, frightening moments. Lance is screaming in the background and Shiro is shouting into the comms. Or maybe at Keith? Then Red roars to life again. She somehow manages to grapple free from the thickest part of the storm, and rushes forward. She’s snarling in her mind, angry and confused about something, but sends her urgency through their bond to flee, not fight whatever may have struck her. Keith supports her movements with the controls, taking over when she relents.

Their gamble pays off. Red is quick enough, but just barely.

Keith keeps her low to the trees, almost skimming the high branches of the blue and green leaves. He guides Red to a rocky outcropping tucked away by the edge of a lake. Red lands heavily, her presence still hovering in the back of their bond, but muted. Keith sets about running a diagnostic scan, but it turns up nothing other than several depleted power cells. 

Red is okay, but they won’t be flying out of here anytime soon.

Lance stumbles out of the cockpit and collapses the ground. Keith follows on slightly unsteady feet, hand to his head.

“And you called me the worst pilot ever!” Lance practically shrieks, rising to his feet to point an accusing finger at Keith.

“That was not a normal storm! It was almost like it was targeting us!” Keith snarls back, bracing his feet apart and struggling to pull his helmet off.

Shiro steps in to stand between them like a physical barrier that will stop them from arguing. “Enough! Keith, you okay?”

Keith manages to pry his helmet off, wincing when his hand brushes a tender spot at the back of his head. He can feel a headache starting, but he shrugs Shiro’s worry off. 

“I’m fine,” Keith mutters, looking away. They are all quiet for a moment, and then Lance looks up. 

“Um, I know what just landed a giant metal lion, but should it be this quiet?” He questions, eyes wide as they look around. Lance is right. The purple lake below the cliff is shockingly still and there are no sounds of animal life. For all the storms that rumble and circle high in the atmosphere, there is no wind.

Shiro frowns. The comms crackle in their ears, broken voices filtering through. Allura sounds distressed and Keith can make out Hunk rambling worriedly. “Princess?” Shiro asks, testing the connection. 

“Shiro! Thank goodness _–fzt-_ lost contact _-fzt-_ Red Lion’s signa _–fffzzztttt-_ disappe _-fzt-_ from our scanners _–ffzzzt-_ into the atmosphere.”

Shiro winces, looking to the dark, still sky around them. He starts walking around, trying to perhaps find a place where the static would perhaps be less. Judging by his pursed lips and shaking head, their luck is running dry. He returns after a moment, glancing at Lance who is looking around their surroundings just as warily.

“Well, it looks like we’re stuck here for the time being,” Shiro announces to which Lance groans, muttering something about creepy deserted forests. “Keith, Pidge showed you how to run those scans from Red right? Lance, keep a look out. I’ll get to work on getting those sensors set up for Pidge and Hunk.”

Keith nods and turns around, walking back into Red’s cockpit. He takes his seat in the pilot’s chair and begins work pulling up the long-range scans he can run from inside Red. After a moment, when the scans are running and he’s watching the readings he only partly understands, Keith places a hand on the console panel. He reaches out to Red mentally, who responds with a staccato purr after a moment. Keith can’t decide if the rough descent to the planet or something else is muting his connection with his lion. Red nudges his mind gently, almost comfortingly before withdrawing moodily. A brief flash of anxiety is communicated across the bond before the metal beast falls silent once more.

  


* * *

  


“The planet’s quintessence levels are low and appear to be dropping at a slow, but steady rate,” Coran’s usually cheerful, bright voice is reserved and low. 

The planet is dying, slowly, but steadily. In time, the planet will look like nothing more than the wasteland that Shiro and Keith crash landed on back when that one wormhole had malfunctioned. 

“The scans aren’t turning up any residual Galra life forces,” Pidge’s voice is perplexed almost; it’s a little unsettling. “I don’t know what’s causing the constant drain, unless the Galra really do have a base somewhere and are somehow draining the planet. These scans aren’t the best, but they are noticeably lacking in lifeforms of any kind. I’m not seeing any animals, much less native people.”

Lance is standing on top of a crouched Red, scope to his eyes. His finger rests alongside the trigger, ready at a moment’s notice to curl and pull the lever should he need to. His lips are moving and his movements, quick and practiced, are making Keith more than a little anxious.

“Lance, quit goofing off!” Keith shouts, to which Lance yelps and jumps, flailing when he almost slips off Red’s lowered head. Keith’s voice echoes off the rocks around them, the only sound in the silence.

Keith is seated beside Red’s open mouth, listening to the comms with Shiro leaning against a giant metallic paw. After Shiro had assembled some of Pidge’s equipment, the comms had stabilized somewhat. So long as they stay within a certain radius of the broadcasting antennae, the comms experience minimal static.

Keith’s headache is coming back, persistent, but tolerable. He longs to take his helmet off and ruffle his dark hair from the stifling confines of it. This is the first planet they come across that reminds him so much of Earth despite the gargantuan size and different color of things. 

Lance makes his way down from Red’s head, “Dude, really? Do you want me to fall?”

Keith shrugs, “It wouldn’t be the first time you make an idiot of yourself.”

Lance glares at him, blue eyes dark in the fading light.

Everything here seems to have grown on steroids; the trees are at least three times the size of the ones back home. Small ones appear the size of giant redwoods, with thick, high reaching branches. The barks of the trees, rocks, and what soil he can see from high up on the ledge Red sits, is dark, black like volcanic soil. The leaves are a dark blueish-green, teal almost, with their branches interlocking creating a thick canopy. They aren’t in the forests right now, and even though it feels like the height of day time, when the sun should be at its zenith, the trees seem to block out almost all the light. It’s like looking into those dark foreboding forests parents used to describe in fairy tales to keep little kids from venturing off. Storm clouds roll and thunder sounds ominously in the distance, but there is little breeze despite the promise of unsavory weather.

The lake below them is as still as ever, a glossy smooth surface of pale translucent purple. Lance keeps looking at the water almost longingly and Keith understands to a degree. The water is probably safe to swim in if the air is any indicator. 

Night time creeps up on them and after some further scans that turn up even more frustrating results by the lack there of, they decide that the planet itself is abandoned. If there is anyone here, they’ve taken to hiding well. The lack of anything on the scans confirms their assumptions, though.

They camp out for the night in Red and decide to set out in the morning on foot to patrol the planet. Allura refuses to leave no stone unturned.

  


* * *

  


Shiro is already awake and ready to depart when Keith and Lance awake the next morning. He had last watch, but they both doubt Shiro got much sleep regardless. The distant rumbling of thunder is loud and the clouds outside are so dark, it’s hard to discern the time of day. The comms are still stable enough that they can communicate briefly with the castle. Pidge unveils that she spent a good part of the night trying to work out a better channel for the comms and while the static is still bad and spotty at times, the link stays relatively stable as they venture out away from Red.

The silence that dominates the whole land is nerve wracking. It makes Lance uneasy.

They traverse down the cliffs where Keith had landed Red without incident and once at the bottom, Lance stops to stare at the unnaturally still surface of the water. The sand leading to the water’s edge is thick, almost pebbly instead of typical sand. Lance bends down, grabbing a handful of the substance to discover it isn’t black, but rather a deep shade of indigo. There’s a sharp gale cutting through the open area that whips his brunette hair about every so often. The lake water ripples outward from the shore then falls still almost too quickly. 

Shiro grunts, rolling a shoulder, “Alright, let’s move out. Hopefully we’ll cover enough ground before that storm catches up.” He takes the lead, Keith falling into step behind him easily, and Lance trails behind as they leave the lake shoreline to disappear into the thick forests. 

Behind them, the lake ripples.

The trees above them would provide the perfect cover to spy or snipe from, but the branches above are so high, Lance can’t begin to fathom how to climb up there even with the use of their jet packs. 

They travel in their own form of silence. It’s humid, not unbearably so, but enough that it’s starting to get uncomfortable. The air is heavy with impending rain and the darkness of the forest does little to help. A varga into their trek, Allura’s voice filters in over the comms. “According to the maps we have, you should be coming up on a settlement.”

“If things haven’t changed in the time we were in stasis,” Coran cuts in. They’d been doing research themselves on maps and current information on the planet, but it doesn’t sound like they’ve turned up much. The Dalquinians have all but withdrawn completely into themselves over the centuries.

Sure enough, the trees begin to thin out slightly. It’s not much, but enough that it goes from the density of a jungle to a thick forest. Up until this point, they haven’t come across any signs of life, not even animal trails through the dense undergrowth as one would expect. The farther they travel, the more apparent it becomes the planet is sick. The plants around them seem to be withering away.

So when they come across an uprooted tree, it is still a surprise to Lance. Shiro bends down to rub his hand along some dark marks that mar the tree’s bark. It’s almost impossible to see them against the dark wood, but Shiro grunts as he stands up, “It’s old, no ash or heat, but it’s definitely Galra work. Plasma blast.”

Keith crouches to the ground, a hand moving crushed ferns aside to reveal impressions in the dirt. The foot prints are there, despite looking very old. Lance draws his bayard, stepping forward. He looks up in the direction they know the settlement lays and Lance feels his blood run cold. "Hey guys, I know mullet man here," Keith growls at this point, "is the one all about instincts, but am I only the one getting a bad feeling here?" 

Shiro shakes his head. "No Lance. You're not alone." He’s talking very quietly. 

Lance creeps around the tree to see the faint outlines of buildings. He pulls the scoop of his gun up, peering through it slowly. “Pidge? Anything?” He whispers into the comms.

It takes a moment, but Pidge eventually responds through the faint static. “Nothing on my end here.” 

Only once Lance gives the all clear do they walk into the village proper. 

Stone houses on the ground are toppled and in varying states of ruin. There are houses in what remains of the trees, not very high up, but he can see burned rope bridges that had once connected them, hanging. The houses in the trees are burned, some even shredded. The canopy of leaves that had once sheltered this place is torn, leaving behind a gaping hole in the roof. The trees appear to have attempted to recover, but failed miserably.

Shiro is the first to speak after a long time, "Spread out. Search for any clues as to when this may have happened and what transpired."

Keith scoffs, eye a nearby fence structure critically. "Shiro, it’s a ghost town."

Lance hums in agreement, tucking his bayard away and running a hand through his hair as he bends next to a house. He studies the vines growing over the structure. The lower part of the plant is what Lance assumes a healthy red and orange because the top half is burnt and shriveled. The place is a mix of burned and crushed buildings and half dead planets. "Keith's right. The forest is trying to reclaim the area. This happened ages ago."

Shiro growls as he turns to them. "I know that!" He snaps, startling them. Shiro blushes then turns away to scratch at his neck. He's been jumpy and spacey (hehe, spacey) since they first discovered the beacon.

Keith steps forward to place a hand on Shiro’s shoulder. Lance looks away from the pair, feeling like he’s looking in on an exchange that he shouldn’t be. He leaves them to talk in favor of searching the ruins around them. He doesn’t find much other than more scorch marks and more ruins. He does come across what appears to have once been a paddock of sorts for what he assumes might be the Dalquinian’s version of some type of livestock. The ground is trampled around a broken gate beyond the hope of grass growing back and he finds what appears to be rotting dried grass stacked in a corner under a dilapidated shelter. Lance leaves the corral with a grunt when he finds nothing useful. 

Then Lance unceremoniously trips, face planting with a yelp as his foot sinks in a hole that had been covered in leaves. He sits up, rubbing his tender face as he glares at the large crack that had caused him to fall. 

“Lance?!” Shiro’s voice is distant; had Lance wandered that far away without realizing?

“I’m fine, but you guys might wanna come look at this!” Lance calls out, standing slowly. He kicks away some vines that had been growing (something that he finds odd for some reason, they appear displaced) and swallows at what he unearths. 

There are gouges in the dirt, about two feet down at the deepest and nearly a foot wide. There are three other matching lines, leaving nothing to the imagination as to the destructive force behind the creature that caused this. Unless Haggar has a Robeast hiding in wait here, Lance cannot think of much that may have caused this.

What he can think of, he adds to his list of ‘Avoid at All Costs.’

Keith makes a noise when he rounds the corner to Lance’s discovery, just as shocked as him. Shiro stares wide eyed at the claw marks. Keith stalks forward to crouch next to Lance, rubbing a hand on the very edge of a gouge. 

Something catches Lance’s eye close by. He stands, walking forward until he’s at the object that has his attention. He wraps his hand around the thin metal shaft, yanking out the material buried deep within the decaying bark. There’s a brightly color pink feather fletched to the arrow shaft. 

This isn’t a Galra weapon and the feather seems out of place somehow, the metal of the arrow almost pristine.

Too pristine.

“Shiro, these marks are fresh. Maybe a few days old,” Keith says softly. “Whoever came through here even tried to cover these.” Well, that explains why they looked displaced.

Lance turns, offering the arrow for inspection to their leader. “This arrow. The feather is freshly notched and the shaft is in perfect condition,” Lance says, running a finger along the carefully trimmed fletching. Someone had put great care into making it. “There’s nothing to show for it having behind used in battle or left out in the weather for a long period of time.”

Shiro looks puzzled, his eyebrows furrowed deeply as he takes the arrow from Lance’s hand. He looks up at the surrounding houses around them. “This doesn’t make sense,” Shiro says, looking back at Keith as he continues to stare at the ground.

“Look,” Keith says. Keith points to something a few feet off, using his sword to brush aside some foliage. Laying in the dirt, barely visible, is the heel of a foot print, a very human one. “This is fresh. Very. It goes in that direction.” Keith points into a dense part of the forest, looking up. Shiro and Lance follow his line of sight.

Shiro tightens his grip on the arrow shaft. “Then that’s the way we go next.”

  


* * *

  


Keith stops walking so suddenly that Lance runs right into his back. He stumbles back with a sound of protest, rubbing at the breast plate of his armor even though it honestly doesn't hurt. The glare Keith throws at him certainly annoys him though. 

"Hey, you're the one that stopped walking, mullet head." Lance grumbles, looking around. "Why did you stop?" Keith ignores his jab, his eyes trained to the strange, teal trees around them. The scale of things on this planet is really starting to mess with their heads. Lance feels like an ant compared to the towering ferns and foliage. 

Shiro turns to face them, face serious and mouth parted like he’s about to reprimand them. They’ve been walking for a long time now, checking in regularly with the castleship, and have found nothing else to point them in the right direction. 

"I thought I heard something," Keith murmurs. Shiro shields his eyes and looks to the trees above them. There isn't much point honestly. What sun is there is barely filtering through the thick trees. They’ve been walking for a long time now.

Lance snorts, "Dude, we've been here for a whole day and we haven't seen or heard any signs of life other than plants. And they don't look all that great. At this point, I'm pretty sure we all would have heard something."

Shiro hums in agreement. "Lance is right; the scanners still weren’t picking up any signs of life other than flora when Pidge last contacted us." Shiro closes his eyes, pinching his nose as he thinks. “Okay, let’s look for a decent place to camp. It’s probably getting pretty late anyway.”

It takes a moment for the static in the communicators to clear, but Allura's voice eventually filters through. "You should be coming up on a small ravine it seems. Despite our maps being old, they seemed to have changed very little."

They find the ravine easily, cutting a swathe into the land. The ground is slightly damp in some places because of the low laying area, but it’s obvious that the creek that once ran through the area has run dry. Ideally, they’d camp on high ground, but there’s nothing within a short hike’s distance so this has to do. The ravine is thickly guarded by low laying trees and brambles, but they find a small opening in the brush that leads to a relatively clear area inside with plenty of room overhead for them to stand and move about.

To say they are surprised to find the area occupied is an understatement.

There’s no one living and breathing there, but there’s the remains of a campfire. There’s still faint smoke rising from the coals. There is a poor excuse for a knapsack nearby and the remains of some kind of fruit peel tucked in a neat pile beside the fire. There are footsteps all around the immediate vicinity of the fire, but the consistent size says they belong to one person.

“Princess, someone was here,” Shiro says softly into the comms. 

“What?” Allura’s voice is small, as if refusing to believe that they’ve found evidence of life. 

“But how? My scans still read nothing!” Pidge grumbles, her voice strained with the irritation that somehow this planet is still misleading them.

“They aren’t here now, but they left not long ago,” Keith says, picking through the items in the backpack. He freezes and pulls out a roll of old cloth that has served as bandages at one point. Recently too, because the dark stain on the fabric comes away wet on the red paladin’s fingers. “Shiro? The blood is from a Dalquinian.”

Shiro stares at the blue liquid on Keith’s gloves for a long time before he blinks. His eyes seem to come back, looking around the improvised campsite. “Whoever was here will come back. It might be best to back off, especially if they are hurt and wait for them to come back. We can watch from afar and approach if we think they won’t harm us.”

“They won’t,” Allura says over the comms, her voice strong and confident. “Dalquinians are not ones to attack first.”

“No offense, Princess,” Keith says, examining the heavily stained cloth, “I don’t think they’ll appreciate being taken by surprise when injured after their planet has fallen.”

Lance retreats from the shelter of the brambles, searching the surrounding area in the dim lighting for a possible place for them to stake out the night without being too exposed. They find another fallen tree and manage to get set up in the gigantic exposed root system. They are hidden from immediate sight, but still have a decent view of the ravine. They don’t have anything to really camp out with other than water and ration bars, so they’ll have to take turns sleeping on the ground. “Great, creepy dying planet and we have to sleep on ghost soil,” Lance grumbles.

Allura is the only one awake at the castle, other than Pidge because without Lance or Shiro there to look out for her, she’s probably going to be up all night in front of her computer. “I don’t understand. Dalquin has always been known for its wildlife and you have found no evidence of anything other than this one camp site. This does not bode well. For the wildlife to have disappeared altogether, the deities must have fallen with the Guardians.”

Shiro is staring at the water bottle in his hand, his ration bar forgotten in his lap. "I don't like this. But we know the Guardians have fallen, that Isa in the transmission mentioned that for certain. And that settlement earlier was completely abandoned; has been for a while." Keith has taken to carefully cutting leaves from the nearby plants to lie on the ground. 

Allura sighs heavily, the frustration in her voice thick. Lance reminds himself that she's more annoyed at the lack of information they have and the situation, rather than the lack of their knowledge about Dalquinian culture. "Yes, but the deities are constant. They protect the planet and balance the quintessence and magic levels. The Guardians protect both the land and people and are Dalquinians who have the power to borrow deity power. At least that's what I can recall. The Dalquinians were very private civilization. They were very reluctant to explain anything in relation to their abilities. Even the Queen kept the society’s secrets from my Father. She admitted to not knowing much herself. She was a bit distant from the people due to not being a pureblood."

Lance glares at Keith, who has taken to murdering a fern frond instead of plant hacking. "Dude, the planet has enough death and doom on it. Can you take it easy with the plant dismemberment?"

Keith gives him a weird look, dropping the frond from his hands like he’s been burnt. He crosses his arms, scowling at Lance. "They're just plants, Lance. Besides do you really want to sleep on the 'space ghost soil' as you put it? This is what I get for being nice."

Lance feels heat crawl up his neck. Hey, his worries are a legitimate concern! There is nothing here! "It’s 'alien ghost soil.' Not technically in space since we are planet side. Get it right if you're going to insult me. But now I'm more worried about ghost plants strangling me in my sleep. Thanks, mullet."

Shiro makes a noise of disappointment as Keith whips around to start arguing further. “Guys, please. Stop fighting, eat your ration bars, and then we can get set for watch. I doubt we’ll catch whoever was here before if you two keep arguing.” Shiro holds out his extra ration bar to Lance.

Lance makes a face, sticking his tongue out and tries to repress a shudder, "Ugh, ration bars. Space delicacies. Forget ghost plants and soil. This is more horrifying." Lance glares at the proffered food before snagging it from Shiro, undoing the foil from around the bar. Keith smirks at Lance, which Shiro levels with a look of his own. Keith ducks away from the reprimand, distracting himself by gulping nearly half his water in one breath.

As Lance chews the sticky food goo bar, he thinks back to the video feed, the dying Isa with her pretty, blue spattered face. It's infinitely easier to think of the blood as paint and he doubt he'll ever see such a pretty shade of blue as anything more than that. The village earlier had signs of fighting, but it was so old other than the arrow and claw marks.

Shiro takes the first watch as Keith and Lance bed down for the night. Lance crosses his arms over his chest, tucking his chin against his chest. He glances at Keith, who is sprawled on his back, arms folded behind his head. His gaze is trained to the dark canopy above them, eyes fierce as if trying to see through the dense trees. Lance rolls over on his side, tucking an arm under his head and closes his eyes. 

It feels like he’s just fallen asleep when he’s awakened for his watch. Lance sits up groggily, rubbing at an eye as he gazes dully at Shiro. Shiro offers him a small smile, “Nothing to report, silent as ever.” 

Lance stands and takes a moment to stretch, relishing the feeling of his joints popping and muscles releasing tension. He sits down with his back against the tree, listening to Shiro shift around before he settles in for the night. Lance waits for a moment before standing carefully and creeping around to gaze at Shiro’s face to confirm that he actually is asleep. His eyes are closed and after listening intently for a moment, Lance can make out the breathing pattern of light sleep. Well, at least their leader will get some sleep. Shiro could use every little bit and the day probably has him more than a little tired. Lance knows he is.

Lance settles in for a long, quiet watch after making a quiet trip around the perimeter of their makeshift camp. The silence is bothersome and he desperately wants to hum or sing to break the oppressing silence, but he knows doing so may alert whoever was here before to their presence. 

It’s probably about half way through his watch when he feels it. A creeping sensation runs up his back, like tiny ants or spiders crawling between his armor and skin. It’s the feeling of being watched. He freezes, ears straining for any sounds of movement in the silence. When he can’t pick up anything, he stands nonchalantly and goes about stretching; he’s trying to play it off that he’s unaware he may not be alone. No sense in tipping someone off. Lance sees nothing when he carefully looks around. Not even a leaf flutters. He sighs, rubbing his eyes. Maybe he’s being paranoid.

He settles again after checking the ravine from a distance. What he guesses to be another varga or so passes when he feels it again.

The crawling is back. It’s not paranoia this time. 

Just when he's about to scream from the tension, something else happens. 

_Thump._

The ground trembles. It's silent again and still.

 _Thu-thump._

Again. Okay now Lance is starting to freak out.

It's almost like the Jurassic park scene where the Tyrannosaurus rex is closing in on that guy with the broken leg. Emboldened with an idea, he pulls out a water jug with shaking hands and sets it on the ground. He holds his breath as he waits for it to stop shaking from him moving it. And when it does stop, his heart is hammering in his chest.

 _Thump._ The water ripples. 

Okay, time to officially panic.

"Okay, nope, Lance out! Guys, get up, guys! We've got company!"

His voice sends Shiro shooting awake from the light sleep he's managed to fall into. Shiro leaps to his feet, stumbling over Keith who grabs his bayard in a rush. The sword flashes into existence.

"Lance, what's wrong?" Shiro asks, seeing nothing in the immediate vicinity that is alarming. Keith growls at Lance, probably thinking Lance is shouting out for nothing. 

Then they feel it too, the tremors. There's no denying it now, as it's more pronounced than before. Something big is coming their way. 

Keith curses, shoving his helmet on his head as Shiro does the same. The built in flash lights are bright, cutting a swathe of fierce light into the thick gloom of the forest. Allura is shouting through the thick static in the comms, but no one is answering her. They all shut off the lights on their helmets to conceal their position.

They wait. 

When it seems to be almost on top of them, the tremors stop. Lance freezes because there is no movement in the trees around them other than the ferns swaying back and forth in the wind. That's impossible though. Nothing that big should be able to move that quickly without disturbing anything. 

Wait.

The ferns are moving. In the wind?

But… there is no wind. 

Lance slowly turns to look behind them, towards the ravine. His vision is blocked by something; something that he knows wasn't there before. He stares for a moment, intrigued as he watches glowing lines of red and yellow flash faintly in the dark. It looks like it's pulsing from red to orange to yellow upwards. He cranes his neck to follow the glow and makes a noise when the lines begin to take shape in the gloom. There's a ripple of something in the darkness and the inky black fades away to reveal a deep maroon figure. 

A figured covered in scales, towering over them. The creature's breathing is what's moving the ferns.

The noise Lance makes causes the others to whip around. They all gape openly, too astonished to move. The scales lighten in color until the creature stands before them in its entirety, lava pulsing through the cracks in its scales. It's getting brighter each second.

Lance has a split second to think of what the creature reminds him of before all hell breaks loose.

Dragon.


	3. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The paladins are not quite alone as it first seemed. The question is are they friend? Or foe?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in posting this, I've been wanting to post for a while because, hey cliff hangers? Thanks for those who left kudos guys! I'm taking a guess in that I'm doing okay based on that! Feedback is appreciated as its the only way I know if I'm doing well.
> 
> Action picks up here and I hope the fight scene is decent enough.
> 
> Without further ado, here's the next chapter!
> 
> [Tumblr](https://jinxetta.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Chapter Warnings: Mild Language, Violence

Dragons are real, and judging by the ear splitting roar this dragon bellows, they are dealing with a very angry one. Lance yelps as the sound bounces in their heads, amplified by the helmets, leaving their ears ringing.

Lance totally, definitely, does _not_ scream like a girl.

“Dragon! Holy crow, it’s a dragon! Allura, Pidge, we need back up here!”

A big thick, scaly tail is swinging at them suddenly. Shiro shouts to duck and scatter, and the two other paladins do so in a panic. Lance ducks and dives behind some ferns. In mere seconds, the dragon has effectively shoved them away from their only viable cover in the downed tree. Not that a dead tree could provide much cover against a dragon. Okay, actually no, not good cover, but perfect tinder. Lance scans the branches above in hopes of finding one he can reach to get high enough to lay down some cover fire. It’s a pointless endeavor really, because the lowest tree branches have to be at least 30 foot in the air, and while he’s sure he can use his jet pack to get there, Lance highly doubts that the dragon will just let him.

But honesty, it’s not like he can really miss, though. Even if he wasn’t the resident sharpshooter of the team with a killer aim, the dragon is a huge easy target.

Suddenly Keith is at his side, dark eyes wide in panic. This is a several-story tall dragon they are dealing with. How are they supposed to fight that?! Galra yea, sure. No problem, just avoid the claws, teeth, and occasional metal limb. Drones? Stupid. They’re robots that can normally be easily dispatched by one or two well-placed shots. Ships? Yea, his leading lady Blue is perfect for that.

Wait. Red! 

“Keith, Re-“ Lance starts, wincing as the dragon roars again, swiping with his claws at the foliage and swinging its long angular head in an effort to find them. 

Keith nods in understanding and closes his eyes. Then he gasps, his already fair skin growing even paler and Lance instantly knows things are about to get infinitely worse.

Something is interfering with Keith’s connection to Red. 

Shiro darts from the gloom, trying to circle around the dragon; a quick sweep of the spiked tail sends the black paladin scrambling backwards. The dragon turns its body to present its whole side in an intimidation tactic, growling loudly with bared teeth and lowered head. The two rows of small spines travelling from nostril to eye ridge are flashing in muted colors like Christmas lights. The dragon stares them down, dark eyes menacing. Its golden eyes glimmer subtly against the ever present glowing lines between the scales. The lines are almost nonexistent against the tiny facial scales.

There’s a brief standoff where they all do nothing, but glare at one another. Both sides refuse to back down and the dark, slitted eyes of the dragon seem to flicker in the dim forest light. Lance finds it briefly odd that the dragon is not attacking them, content to just stand there. Shiro takes a step forward, palms open.

The spell is broken and the dragon roars, head low to the ground and head spikes flashing ominously. The inside of its mouth is black like it has been scorched from the inside out. There are two terrifying rows of backward pointing serrated teeth on its up jaw. Lance knows that the bite strength alone will crush limbs. Why does a dragon need to have extra insurance in catching prey?

It snaps its deadly jaws at Shiro, who leaps backward out of range. The dragon starts advancing again, spiked tail swinging, claws swiping, and jaws snapping as little by little, it presses them backwards. It’s like the dragon is playing with them.

Keith charges forward with a snarl, done playing defense, “Lance!”

Lance shouts a protest, but swings up his bayard anyway, months of fighting together having made his response times quicker. They have long passed the awkward shouting of hasty plans; they all know each other well enough now that they can simply shout out one word and get things done. Lance takes a breath, holds it, and takes aim at the dragon. So much is happening so fast, Lance isn't quite sure how he manages it, but he notices things about the dragon that he hadn't noticed before. It's massive yes, but not entirely so; the size of a small two story building perhaps. The scales appear smooth, less obvious, like a snake’s. Lance wonders if they feel as seamless as they look or if they appear bumpy like a lizard’s.

The fact that this dragon is in fact an animal calms him. It also helps that it's not the size of a jet. It’s just an oversized lizard with puny wings.

Lance takes aim, going for the weaken armor around the joints. He silently thanks his childhood obsession with dragons as he fires two shots into the area right beneath the dragon's arm just as the dragon reaches forward to grab Keith.

The shots bounce off, leaving little more than scorch marks on the paler abdominal scales. The dragon doesn’t even flinch.

Lance pales and he’s back to panicking. 

Okay, not quite an animal.

"Lance, quit playing around and cover me," Keith shouts, barely dodging the dragon's snapping jaws. The dragon is getting more irritated now and reacting faster. Keith’s sword lands uselessly against the dragon's snout. Even there, the tiny interlocking scales are too thick.

"Dude, did you not see my last shot!" Lance screams, "No amount of my killer sharpshooter skills is going to do anything!" Yet, he's still firing because hey, at least it’s a distraction? He's not sure; the dragon doesn't seem to be paying any mind to him. Keith is the only one that is close enough to warrant its immediate attention. Shiro rushes to aid Keith. 

"Stop panicking and keep shooting Lance! Keith, fall back!" Shiro shouts, Galra arm glowing; the dragon zeros in on the purple light, lips curling back from crooked teeth. There’s too much noise between the dragon, Keith’s war cries, Shiro’s orders, and the static and shouting in Lance’s helmet. 

"Yea, keeping shooting! Doing that!" A shot to the face bounces off the dragon's horns. It earns the blue paladin a snarl and the dragon finally turns to him, the long tail sweeping over his head. He ducks just in time. He's getting sloppy in his panic. "At the dragon! With the impervious scales!" His panic is making his voice high pitched. 

"It's not a dragon, moron!" Keith jumps back, sword up to protect himself as the dragon snaps at him. 

The dragon is doing remarkably well at keeping tabs on them all, but then again it’s a dragon. 

"Scales! Spiked tail! Vestigial wings!" Lance fumes, anger over riding his panic at the familiar feeling that arguing with Keith brings.

"How do you even know a word like vestigial?!" Keith spins away, his back to Shiro to slice at the talons that try to sneak up behind them. The dragon is roaring less, growling more, and using its tail to loop them back towards its body so it can swipe with both front and hind legs. 

Lance is beginning to doubt that this is more than just a simple animal. Its reading movements and fighting for little reason other than to herd them away.

"Really Keith?! You choose to comment on my word choice rather than on the dragon who is literally about roast us?!" Lance is shouting loud enough his voice is cracking. He pauses, pondering over Keith’s words and nearly gets beamed across the head from a swipe. “Hey…wait, is that an insult at my intelligence!”

"Guys! Can we please-" Shiro slices at the dragon's snout to cover Keith, who retreats. 

After so much failure at managing to do anything other than leaving ash marks, it comes as a shock when Shiro’s arm actually does something.

It draws forth a small gush of steaming blood and the dragon wails in pain, drawing back in surprise. The red liquid splashes on Shiro's face past the helmet, sizzling loudly. Shiro shouts in pain as the blood burns his skin, a hand coming up to paw at his face. 

"Shiro!" Keith shouts, alarmed. The purple light of Shiro’s arm and the dragon’s wound seems to send the dragon into a new frenzy. It's targeting Shiro now, with a vengeance, trying to separate Keith and Shiro. How can it move this quickly with it being that large?

Lance aims again, shooting several times at the dragon’s head as its jaws nearly take Shiro’s leg. Keith throws Shiro’s arm over his shoulder and hauls their half blinded leader away. Shiro stumbles, a hand pressed to his face, before he gathers his wits about him and starts running on his own. “Alright, enough, retreat!”

Pidge’s shouting over the comms finally comes through clear. "Guys?! Its body temperature is rising?!" 

Something inside Lance makes his panic resurface to the point he’s hyper ventilating. "Get out of there!" He's running forward, needs a better angle, he needs a better shot. The dragon is pulling its head back. Keith is distracted enough to miss the thick arm swinging at him until it’s too late. He shoves Shiro out of the way. The arm crashes bodily into Keith, swiping him off his feet easily and sending the red paladin sprawling into a tree. The small, wide wings flare open on the dragon, the membrane in between the long fingers flashing bright red, yellow, and black. 

There's a crest of feathers at the back of its head that rise upwards to full attention. Some part of Lance’s brain says they should make the dragon look ridiculous. Like an overgrown, demented cockatoo, with scales and claws that wants to kill them. Or a chicken.

It doesn’t help at all, but in fact makes the dragon even more intimidating because Lance has always been a little terrified of parrots after the pet cockatoo his tío had nearly bit off his finger as a very young child.

Lance ducks as the dragon swings its spiked tail around under a hind limb, using its whole spine to gain more power and moment in the swing. 

Shiro and Lance rush to Keith, who is wheezing loudly, bayard transformed back into normal. Shiro reaches to tug Keith up, but he rises quickly unassisted. 

Lance spins around and takes a knee, raising his gun as he turns to the dragon. He peers down the barrel. The dragon rears up, all the spines lighting up at once, from nose to tail. There are rapid colors shifting through the membranes in a set pattern of threes. Black, red, yellow. Blinking rapidly three times, and then sustaining a blinding white for a few seconds before starting over again. It opens its mouth, steam and smoke curling from the open jaws.

Lance takes a breath, holds it. He counts in his head, waiting for the perfect moment.

Time slows. The dragon lowers its head, eyes a fierce burning gold. There’s a spark somewhere deep in its throat and a glow starts. Lance can see the heat making hazy waves from his position. He’s hyper aware of everything, from his own breathing, to the almost careful way the dragon seems to step forward in the vegetation, and to the sweat rolling down his temple.

The dragon lets loose its attack just as Lance fires.

Lance is just quick enough on the draw to beat the dragon.

Lance releases his shot and watches as it zips past the open mouth, up the small facial spines, and sinks into the unprotected eye of the dragon. The dragon pulls back with a horrific shriek, green fire erupting from its open jaws into the night sky. The flames are noxious as they tear open a hole in the canopy.

Bright moonlight floods the forest floor and reveals the dragon's full body. Lance has a moment to appreciate the dragon's form; it really is quite beautiful if not a weird body for a dragon. The feathers on its head travel down its neck to create a thick mantle over its shoulders. The spikes he thought previously were all along its spine only appear on its face, hips, the front of its thighs, and tail. 

Keith is still breathing harshly beside him, staring openly in shock at the flames. "Oh. Well, yea. That's fire. Well, okay. I guess you are right, it is a dragon."

Lance throws his hands in the air, shouting loudly in mock triumph. He flails, fighting, and failing, the urge to do a small dance at his victory. "And he admits I'm right for once!"

“Less arguing, more retreating!” Shiro shouts, grabbing an arm for them both and turning tail.

Not quick enough.

But hey, no one could have guessed that a bloody stupid dragon would have back up.

The world comes crashing back down around them when an arrow sinks into the ground in front of them. It explodes like a mini bomb with a bright light and horrendous sound. The shock wave sends them sprawling on the ground. 

“Holy crow, who packs an exploding bomb arrow,” Lance whines as he rolls to his hands and knees, shaking his head. A shadow falls across Lance and when he looks up, the dragon is suddenly towering above them. 

Or more importantly Lance.

The eye is gone, red blood dribbling down its long snout. It drips on the forest floor with a hiss that causes the plant life to slowly brown and wither away. The dragon’s single eye looks slowly at the blood that falls from its own face then at Lance.

The comms are alive with shouting. "Stop! Allura says don't fight it! It's a deity!"

Oh. 

Oh, no. 

That's not good. Not at all. 

He’s just pissed off a proverbial god. 

The dragon rumbles deep in its chest, the different tone cuts through the tinnitus in Lance’s ears. It approaches slowly, its tail smacking the ground hard enough that it makes the world tilt when the ground shakes. Keith is struggling to his feet drunkenly. Shiro is at Lance’s side in an instant, his arm glowing ominously. The dragon takes personal offense to that, and rears up, flapping its wings harshly. Once, twice, stirring up a strong wind, but the dragon does not take flight. It swings its whole body into the wingbeats, its massive shoulder muscles bulging strenuously, working until the gale sends them flying back. 

Keith stabs his sword into the ground, grunting with the effort to avoid being sent careening into another tree. The red paladin holds on tight enough that he makes a grimace. His helmet visor folds down, allowing him to open his eyes in the stinging wind. 

Keith’s heart beats a wild staccato against his chest as he watches the dragon reach down towards Lance. 

Lance is plucked from the ground, the dragon's vice-like grip. The dragon draws him close, eyeing him like a tasty morsel. He gasps as the dragon tightens its claws around him. Lance shouts and struggles valiantly, but the dragon has one of his arms caught in its grip and Lance’s nails are useless against the thick scales. He can hear a shout of alarm. Keith, some part of Lance’s brain registers through the tunneling thoughts as his body spirals down into full on panic. The grip tightens. He gasps, his free hand clawing at the thick scales wrapped tight around his torso. His lungs are screaming and he so desperately wants to take just one breath. 

‘Hold,’ a disembodied, phantom voice seems to command. Each exhale Lance makes causes the claws to tighten even more like a boa constrictor strangling its prey. The tight band across his chest is hot, like molten lava, and he can feel his bones creaking under the strain.

Through his darkening vision, he can see the dragon’s wings are flashing again, red and black. No white this time. His eyes trace the glowing lines between the dragon’s scales, pulsing slowly like a heartbeat. 

There is smoke billowing from the dragon's jaws again. Lance can see the inside of the black mouth beginning to glow. The teeth look vaguely wedge shaped, like a shark’s, but still curl back sharply towards its throat. He closes his eyes, gasping like a fish. White and black spots dance before his eyes as something in his chest pings, like a snapping rubber band. He coughs and bites his tongue to fight back a scream. He feels metallic warmth coat the inside of his mouth. His head falls back, mouth agape. 

He chokes and sees a glimpse of movement on the dragon, something pale flashing across the scales on the snout in front of him. Light blooms in between them and Lance closes his eyes, finally losing his fight to stay awake.

  


* * *

  


“Lance!”

Keith watches, too shocked at the events that rapidly fold before him. Lance in the dragon's grasp, the dragon slowly bringing him forward to its gaping jaws. Lance is about to die because Keith was too stupid to retreat when he had the chance. Lance had covered him, and instead of running away while he watched the flames burn, he'd sat there with Shiro gaping. Lance isn't struggling under the grasp of the dragon anymore.

The dragon's mouth is glowing. Someone shouts something at the dragon.

And just as Lance is about to be incinerated, something collides with the dragon’s snout in a blinding burst of light.

The dragon freezes, growling heavily past the smoke in its jaws. Lance is limp in its grasp, smoke billowing around his dangling form.

“Noctis. I said hold.” The dragon roars its defiance, but obeys.

Keith feels his blood run cold. The shouting before, it hadn’t been him or Shiro. Well, Keith knew it wasn’t him to some degree, but the world kind of warps when you’re watching your friend being crushed to death and not being able to do anything about it. The voice is quiet, but no less commanding. And it’s coming from behind them. 

Keith whips around, sword drawn, and screeches to a halt when he sees the owner of said voice.

The figure is small enough that Shiro’s broad shoulders, even kneeling down, make it seem tiny. But that’s not what makes Keith so cautious to make a wrong move. The figure has an impressive recurve bow drawn back, an arrow notched and pointed directly at Shiro’s neck where the armor is weakest. 

The air is so tense, Keith can barely breathe. The arrow from before, the dragon’s insistent prodding for them to leave and not outright snuff them out, it all comes together. This figure is the one pulling the strings.

The figure is hidden partially in the shadows, the poor lighting of the forest making it hard to discern anything of the newcomer’s appearance other than its narrow, small form. 

“Lower your blade.”

The voice is clipped. Keith looks to the dragon who snarls at his glance, the blood dripping down from his ruined eye still trickling. The dragon appears much more sentient than he originally thought because as it lowers Lance in its closed fist to the ground, it traps the blue paladin under its claws and opens its glowing mouth in warning. It makes sense now, because the dragon, this Noctis, is a deity. 

He can’t do anything, one wrong move and Shiro will have an arrow in his jugular or Lance will be crushed or fried. 

Keith snarls his frustration, his fists clenching on his sword. Shiro’s trying to make eye contact with Keith, but the red paladin refuses to meet his gaze. He throws his sword to the ground, watching as the bayard transforms to its neutral appearance. The figure presses the arrowhead into Shiro’s neck as the black paladin tenses like he’s going make a move. 

“Ah, ah, ah. You make a move and Noctis there crushes your blue warrior like the insignificant insects you are. Red one, kick your weapon over there.” The voice is rough and cracking horribly, purposely set deep to avoid giving details to their identity. The figure’s head tilts to the side and Keith clenches his fist. Noctis growls behind him, shifting and Keith growls back when he kicks his bayard out of reach. 

“Keith, Shiro, what’s – _fzzzt_ -“ Allura’s voice cuts off, but the comms startle the figure holding Shiro hostage. Keith surges into action. Keith dives for his bayard, grasps it, and charges the dragon in hopes his sudden assault will send it scrambling back. Keith knows its weakness now and isn’t afraid to battle against flames, his element, to stab its other eye to free Lance. Shiro can take care of himself in close quarters against a long distant bowman. Shiro curses because Keith’s action leaves him with no choice, but to act as well. He swipes his Galran arm out behind him at the figure’s legs. They’re not a fighter, as the bow gave away, and it’s a quick and decisive battle. The figure falls heavily with a pained yelp, Shiro pinning them, and Keith recognizes the pitch. 

It’s feminine.

Noctis roars, rearing up on his hind legs like Keith wanted, but he’s underestimated its speed. Common sense says something as big as the dragon shouldn’t be able move that quickly. It knocks Keith flat on his back once more. The ground shakes under the dragon’s anger as the figure underneath Shiro manages to contort loose, shoving a hand up into Shiro’s visor. Shiro yells as the hand claws at the burn on his cheek. Shiro shoves himself away, a hand covering his face. He turns to Keith and removes his hand, gazing disbelievingly at the blood on his fingers. 

Keith whips around to the dragon just as the tail comes crashing down between Shiro and the female figure who appears to have some semblance of a control over the dragon. 

The female scrambles up the dragon’s tail and drops down its hind leg to rush to its front legs. She’s fast and light on her feet, enough that Keith can admire for a brief moment that he can’t hear her even as she scrambles rather awkwardly. She draws two arrows and takes aim with the first into the trees overhead. The arrow sinks deep into the bark of a high tree. The comms immediately go completely dead, radio silence. There’s not even the faintest flicker of static. 

Shit! A jammer?!

The woman releases her second arrow in the same second it takes to draw a breath. It hits the side of Keith’s helmet hard enough to knock him down. She’s a good shot; had it been any bit more to the left, it would have slipped through the visor to pierce his eye.

Keith hits the ground hard, head spinning and ears ringing. Another sonic arrow or is a stupid arrow at close range just that strong? The knock to the tree earlier makes it seem like his luck is running spectacularly short as everything just wants to take a literal crack at his head today. 

Keith’s surroundings get a little fuzzy and sound fades out like he’s underwater. When he finally tunes back in, Shiro is hovering over him, staring up at the female who is now crouching down at the dragon’s feet. The woman (because now she’s in the moonlight and definitely a young woman despite being disgustingly covered in filth and grime) yanks Lance’s head up off the ground to put her claws at his throat. His helmet tilts on his limp head.

They all freeze, barely daring to breathe. She’s definitely Dalquinian. She has the pointed ears Coran and Allura share, only longer, and sharp teeth she’s bearing at them and, of course, the claws currently poised to rip out Lance’s throat. 

“No one moves, or I rip his throat out.”

Her voice, now that she has no reason to disguise it with her cover blown, has a strange lilt to it, coming out sharp and clear over the vowels. It’s still cracking from disuse, but much younger than before and settles at a relatively low pitch for a woman. They stare at one another, the silence stretching between them tangible. Keith slowly sits up, holding his aching head as his vision wobbles for a brief moment.

The dragon has his wings out and is snarling and growling up a storm, colors dancing across the leather membranes. The female is glaring at them, Shiro’s blood on her claws smearing across Lance’s neck. It’s a startling warning about what they could be dealing with soon if they don’t stand down. 

“Okay, okay. Just please, don’t hurt Lance,” Shiro almost pleads. “We really don’t mean any harm.” The dragon snarls viciously at this, the white color flashing across his wings and horns.

“Noctis,” the woman warns, her voice seeming to waver. “I’ll be the judge of that. You were hiding in wait for me after having tracked me. It’s awfully hard to believe you mean no harm.”

Keith makes the connection that this is who they were trying to stake out. The arrow at the village, the claws in the ground, the camp site, it all makes sense now. He also thinks to the soiled cloth he’d found, covered in a fair amount of blood. She must be hurt too, because the dragon’s blood is as red as their blood. The rational part of Keith’s brain says that it makes sense she’d be on the defensive. Injured on top of everything that has happened to her planet? Her reaction is justified as he had said to Allura before, Keith supposes, but he still does not like it.

The female points one hand to Shiro’s prosthetic arm. Noctis’s wings flare red and black, streaking with vibrant purple. “Your arm is of Galra make. And the latest intelligence we have was that the Red Lion was under Galra possession. Why should I believe you mean no harm? The Galra have taken everything and more!” Her claws press into Lance’s skin, causing Keith to rise to his knees.

Keith feels himself grow hot with anger. She has seen them land in Red. “You’ve been tracking us too,” he snarls. “Why show yourself now? If you had been paying any attention, you’d know we’ve been looking for survivors!”

The woman growls at him, the noise making Keith snarl in response. It quickly turns into an all-out growling and snarling festival between the three of them, a boy, a woman, and a dragon, like primitive creatures.

“Trickery! Is it not enough you’ve destroyed everything and left us to wither away! You Galra are all the same!” She snarls and Noctis rumbles in apparent agreement, his wings flaring purple around the edges. Keith starts to understand that the colors are the dragon’s way of communicating.

“Keith, enough! Look, I can prove I’m not Galra, we all can,” Shiro moves slowly, bringing his hands to his helmet. Now a days, Keith is less inclined to believe that about himself. 

“Shiro, no, she’s a damn good shot with that bow and quick. She’ll put an arrow in your eye!” Keith protests as he raises an arm to grab at Shiro’s wrist. He hauls himself to his feet, swaying slightly. The woman makes a noise, tilting her sharp chin at them and Noctis brings his tail close to them, enough that Keith eyes the bony barb on the end of it threateningly.

“I’m not a killer, you _moron_ ,” the woman mimics his insult from earlier, and Keith bristles visibly at the word, “not without reason. I don’t stoop to your levels.” The dragon growls like he’s reminding them that she may not be a killer, but he has no problem with roasting them alive. “Move slowly. You too, Red.”

Keith does not like the nickname, not coming from her.

Shiro nods and carefully removes his helmet, hissing when he brushes the wound on his face. The moonlight reveals the rapidly swelling cheek has his eye nearly closed. Keith reaches up and yanks his helmet off with a fierce tug if only to communicate his displeasure somehow. The dragon growls a warning and his tail is a rattler’s hiss in the ferns. 

The woman freezes, her eyes going comically wide and she quickly looks to Lance in her grip. Shiro makes a noise of alarm when she moves quickly, yanking off the blue helmet. Lance’s normally tan face is surprisingly pale, and Keith thinks he can see sweat glistening on the blue paladin’s forehead. The woman places her hands flat on Lance’s cheeks, tilting his head almost carefully. The dragon is oddly silent.

Whatever Keith is waiting for her to say or do, it’s certainly not what she does, in fact, say.

"You're human!"


	4. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tensions are high with the appearance of a hostile Dalquinian. Shiro tries his best to mollify her, but Keith is making that a bit hard, and to top it off, they are not sure of Lance's condition.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few days late, apologies. I actually have several chapters of the story written out already, but until I know it's being well received updates will continue to try to adhere to a bi-monthly basis. Feedback appreciated guys!
> 
> [Tumblr](https://jinxetta.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Chapter Warnings: Mild Language, Depictions of Violence, Injury

“You’re human!”

Keith really should be more worried about other things, like how the world is still a bit discombobulated, but his first reaction is rather subpar for the red paladin. Of all the things he’d expected to come out her mouth at their not so grand reveal, it certainly was not that.

She’d also used the correct term, ‘human,’ which means she’s encountered their kind before. It’s probably the first time someone has off planet. 

The woman is carding her fingers through Lance’s hair and gazing at him in almost fascinated wonder. It’s really starting to piss him off. “Well, that explains the names.”

He blinks a bit owlishly at the woman’s reaction to their not so grand reveal. Noctis growls in uncertainty, the feathered crest on his head flickering up and down. Deep indigo purple swirls lazily cross his wings and Keith can’t stand the silent communication between these two anymore. 

They could be planning on attacking for all he knows.

“Why does it keep doing that stupid color thing?!” He points at Noctis’s wings and the woman looks up from Lance to stare at Keith blankly. Whatever Keith said seems to offend the dragon, judging by the wings that pulse red.

Red’s a color he knows and he quickly discerns he’s made the dragon angry.

“Noctis cannot talk; he is not bonded, so his form of communication to us is by color flashing. He is a deity, not some primitive life form like what your planet is known for housing,” she says so nonchalantly, Keith feels like she’s talking down to him. Her words from before finally catch up and he looks at Shiro apprehensively. She knows what they are and of their planet, which is far more than Allura and Coran knew, and she’d picked that their names were certainly not Galra.

She’s back to looking at them, leaving Lance alone. Her gaze is fierce and Noctis rumbles inquiringly, looking at the blue paladin he has under his claws. The woman makes a motion and the dragon slowly eases pressure off Lance’s prone body. The woman eases herself upright, but when Shiro makes a move to come forward, she notches an arrow on her bow and aligns it with his heart. Some little nagging voice in Keith’s head makes him worried that the arrow just might actually be strong enough to pierce the armor. She’s a good enough shot to angle the arrow through a joint in the armor no doubt if the first option fails.

“I said you’re not Galra, but how do I know you aren’t working with them. They have many working for them under duress. How did the Red Lion come into your possession?” Shiro swallows thickly, hands clenched at his sides. 

“I’m its Paladin, if you weren’t so obviously blind, you would have noticed it’s bayard!” Keith snaps, taking a threatening step forward. The woman’s gaze travels to him slowly and she bares her teeth like a wild animal. The flash a startling white against the dirt smeared face.

“The Red Lion is female,” she grounds out, “you have a weak mind to overlook that sentient beings can self-identify. And an even weaker bond to not notice her personal preferences.” She looks at Shiro pointedly, drawing farther back on her arrow. “The Black Lion still recognizes Zarkon as its paladin. The head of Voltron can forcibly control the others. Who is to say he’s not commanded the Black into forcing the other lions to obey.”

Shiro looks at a loss as to what to say to pacify the woman. “Look,” he says, trying his best to appear as none threatening as possible. “We can go back and forth about how we could actually be the paladins or be working under Zarkon, but you will always have a reason to doubt us. Your people helped build the lions so you obviously know more about them more than Allura and everyone currently alive could. Please,” Shiro raises his hands, fingers splayed open. Allura’s name makes the woman’s shoulders tense. “Just let us check out Lance and we’ll answer all your questions.”

She looks at the pale, sweating figure that lies beneath her, lowering her bow. She looks back at them and back to Lance. She sighs then glares at Keith, addressing solely him, “If you do anything else stupid like that last trick, Noctis won’t hesitate to kill all of you.” 

Keith feels his face heat up in indignation, anger coursing thick through his blood. “And I suppose you wanted me to just roll over belly up and let you get away with this without even trying.”

She stares at him for a long time, and then promptly laughs. It’s dry and harsh. “Well, I can certainly say this: you act like a red paladin.” 

She tucks the arrow away into a black quiver on her back. It’s like a switch has been clicked, she changes so suddenly. Shiro attempts to rush forward, but Noctis snarls, his eyes trained on Shiro’s metallic arm. His wings flare yellow in what Keith assumes is a warning.

The female holds up an arm. “That’s close enough for Noctis. He’s not exactly happy with you guys. Noctis, quit being a child, I’ll tend to your eye in a moment.”

They hover close by and watch as the woman reaches down to grasp Lance’s fallen bayard close by. When she steps back and goes to tend to Noctis, Shiro and Keith quickly gather at Lance’s side. Keith lets his hands ghost over Lance’s shoulders as Shiro places his fingers against Lance's neck.

"Shiro, is he-"

"Alive, I have a pulse, a little weak, but there and steady," Shiro confirms. Keith feels a heavy weight lift from his shoulders. 

“I told you I wasn’t a murderer,” the woman huffs from her side at Noctis’s head. Keith spares her a heated glance, but returns his attention back to Lance. He reaches down and makes a motion to slip his hand under Lance’s neck and shoulders to lift him, but Shiro stops him. 

“Wait,” Shiro halts him, his own hand grasping Keith’s wrist before he can move Lance upright. He’s not quick enough to stop Keith from moving Lance enough that his head tilts sideways. “We don’t know how badly hurt he is. Moving him could make him worse.”

Keith looks down at Lance’s pale face, eyeing the sweat gathered on his forehead. His eyes fall to Lance’s lips, narrowing dangerously as he watches a small dribble of blood fall from the corner of the paladin’s mouth. His breathing is light and slightly faster than normal, but he doesn’t appear critically injured.

Keith whips around, readying to leap at the woman and make her hurt and bleed like she’s made Lance bleed, but stops abruptly.

She’s turning Lance’s bayard in her hands, her claws following the seams of the metal plating gently. Keith makes a sound of alarm when her fingers catch and a latch pops open on the underside of one of the handles. She pulls what looks like a small chip out and raises it to her eye.

“Noctis? A little light?” She inquires softly and the dragon rumbles so softly, he’s nearly mute. The horns on his face light up, casting a pale light on the woman’s face.

She’s young, much younger than Keith expected, and despite her haggard appearance, she cannot be older than him.

She looks rough; her hair is a dark color that he can’t make out because of how grungy and tangled it is in its massive nest. She appears to have been living wild for a while, with tattered torn clothes. Her thin sallow face is smeared hopelessly with dirt and scratched. Her collarbones jut uncomfortably from the too large top she’s wearing. A sleeve has moved back to pool on a bony shoulder, revealing somewhat clean skin that is heavily freckled. 

She can see something in the tiny chip that makes her eyes widen and she looks at the paladin’s sharply. Her pale hazel eyes are incredibly fierce; it’s almost to the point of making Keith recoil. Now that he’s closer, he can see how her eyes appear remarkably open, unable to hide any emotion. Her eyes are too wide for her face, like those of a child. She reinserts chip and closes the panel to the bayard. She tosses it to Keith who catches it easily and then turns to Noctis. She runs a hand up the dragon’s muzzle, collecting his blood in her hand to examine it.

She doesn’t appear to be affected by the dragon’s blood like Shiro.

She looks at Noctis’s ruined eye and winces. “Come here,” she whispers and Keith watches, mind boggled, as previously unnoticed runes on her wrist light up pale amber. The characters swirl around and rush down the back of her hand to bleed on to the maroon scales of the dragon. The runes encircle his eye as the scales turn the same color of the runes. The color spreads outward from the epicenter like ripples, and then slowly fades away until the dragon’s whole body disappears from view like before. Only the glowing lines of shifting light beneath his scales remain. The light pulses faintly like the coals of a dying fire. The dragon winks back into existence. The blood seems to evaporate and in the blink of an eye, the runes slowly retreat from the dragon’s eye socket to nestle themselves back on the girl’s wrist. 

Wait…not eye _socket_ , but his actual eye. 

Holy quiznack, this girl just _grew back a dragon’s eye._

She catches Keith’s mildly horrified look and turns back to Noctis, a faint blush of perhaps embarrassment marring her grungy cheeks. She looks small and displaced in general, and the hulking form of the deity does not help.

“He is a deity after all. It would have grown back eventually, just very slowly and painfully.” She stares at her fingers for a moment where they caress the dragon’s scales. She then shakes her head and seems to remember the very predicament they are all in. Noctis certainly hasn’t forgotten. His tail spade has been poised to strike this whole time and he seems highly aware of his surroundings, even when he’d been lulled to a near stupor when the young woman had healed him.

“I believe you. Stand down, Noctis, they mean no harm,” she commands softly. She steps closer to them and Keith lowers his shoulders, squaring her up. He goes to lift his bayard when Shiro reprimands him. 

“Keith, that’s enough,” Shiro’s voice is harsh and Keith can’t help but feel significantly cowed. There’s this underlying tone to Shiro’s disappointed command that he’s somehow failed his leader and mentor. He supposes that’s true, because his rash behavior has once more almost got them hurt. It almost got Lance killed.

The girl pauses and eyes Keith warily. She’s close enough now that he can probably strike her down with one blow, her speed and dragon be damned. But he notices something in her eyes and something about that wary look that makes him pause. She’s pale underneath all the grime and now that she’s less guarded and not pointing an arrow at them, Keith can see the bags under her eyes. 

She’s exhausted, no doubt hurt, and probably alone, the last of her kind.

The realization that he could have been the one to end a whole race in one swipe of his sword makes his stomach turn uneasily. This race has been nearly eradicated by the Galra in a short time after standing against them for so long. None of them are sure how, but the Dalquinians have managed to remain mostly untouched by the Galra over the several thousand year war that’s been across raging the solar system. 

Galra, which with each passing day, that Keith is positive he is part of somehow. 

‘You fight like a Galra.’

It hits hard. Desperate to prove to himself, that no, he not part Galra, Keith lowers his sword and, with only a minor struggle, tucks away his bayard on his belt. 

The young woman stands for a moment, watching him, and then reaches to her back. Keith tenses when he thinks she’s going to double cross them, then relaxes as she carefully removes her quiver and bow. She lowers the weapons to the ground with surprising care then stands carefully.

“You’ve been touched by Noctis’s blood,” she notes when looking at Shiro’s face. “It has acidic components that will slowly leech away at the living cells around it until it’s neutralized or run its course. It won’t kill you, but if you don’t treat it now, you may lose your eye.” Keith can’t help but feel like the wind has been punched from his lungs.

“Why hasn’t it affected you,” Shiro inquires, watching her approach carefully. He moves closer to Lance, who hasn’t so much as flinched the entire time. 

“Noctis has a claim on me. I’m immune, and Dalquinians have built up a high resistance to it over the last few decafeebs,” she says, like it’s supposed to make sense. 

“Are you a Guardian?” Keith asks, still not trusting quite her. He doubts he ever will. “Can you help them?”

“No, I’m not a Guardian,” she says it so softly, Keith almost doesn’t catch it. Her tone seems wistful, like she’s remembering something from the past. She probably is in all honesty. “But, if you let me, I can help both him and your blue warrior. I have training in the arts of healing.”

“Lance,” Keith snaps, hoping somehow that letting her know his name will somehow humanize him. If Lance is harmed, he hopes his name will make it weigh heavier on her conscious. He wants to be snarky and think she doesn’t have one, but she understands the concept of murder. “His name is Lance. And if you do anything to harm them further-”

“I forfeit my life, I understand,” she says, blinking her pale eyes and looking up at him. When has she kneeled beside Shiro and Lance? Oh well, this position puts her in a good spot for him to stab her if she does something stupid.

“Lance, then. I’ll tend to Shiro then we can see about Lance and get you reconnected with your team,” she turns to Shiro, lifting her hands slowly. Shiro flinches back, eyeing her claws. There are two claws marks on the fleshy part of Shiro’s cheek. She glances at her red stained fingers and grimaces.

“I...apologize. I forget you humans are quite fragile and I’m not much of a warrior. My mentor always yelled at me should I ever get pinned, I’m killed. I panicked.” She shrugs, looking to Noctis. She appears uncomfortable and Keith really doesn’t understand why. She’s the one with the killer dragon. Even if she is outnumbered, they are seriously outgunned.

“It’s…fine, I guess. I kind of deserved it?” Shiro laments, tilting his head sideways. 

“I’m going to touch you now,” the girl says, lifting her hands slowly when Shiro nods. She gently grasps Shiro’s chin, tilting his head so that the faint light from Noctis’s still glowing horns illuminates the damage. She’s careful to use her fingers in a way the claws don’t touch him. The claw marks are long, but appear shallow. What’s more worrisome is the second degree chemical burn appearing on Shiro’s rapidly swelling face. She winces and attempts to wipe away the blood using the pad of her fingers. Shiro makes a face and can only stand a few seconds of contact before he has to pull away.

“Well,” the Dalquinian says as she lowers her hands to her lap. “It doesn’t appear horrible, but it certainly isn’t good. I can stop the spread and maybe reverse some of the deeper burns to jump start the healing process. Give me a moment; I need to find some herbs.” She turns to a small pack at her side and pulls out a clean white cloth. She folds it in half and holds it out Shiro. “Here, I know it may burn, but you should really put some pressure on the cuts, help stop the bleeding. Don’t wash it with water; it will increase the rate of infection.” 

She stands up and moves away, her footsteps light and nearly nonexistent. Keith waits until she’s a good distance away before he crouches next to Shiro. He watches Shiro press the cloth to his bleeding cheek with a wince. 

“Are you sure this is a good idea? She just had you on the business end of an arrow and nearly clawed your eye out,” Noctis growls lowly behind them and Keith glances over his shoulder to see green fluttering across the folded membranes of his wings. Keith scoffs.

“We don’t really have a choice. Lance is hurt and the comms are out. Even with the comms open, do you think Allura could land the castle? We barely made it through those storms in one piece with Red. The storms will tear it apart,” Shiro glances at Lance, placing a hand on his forehead. “If we have any hope of brokering some kind of alliance we have to play nice. We don’t have to trust her, but we have to show we mean no harm, which we’ve done a pretty poor job of so far.”

“Do you really think there are others out here? I mean, she’s no warrior, but she has a dragon under her control,” Keith says looking back at Noctis. For the first time, the dragon seems less intimidating and almost amused. His feathers seem to puff up at the roundabout admittance that Keith is more than a little impressed with him. Keith can just imagine the dragon is preening on the inside. Noctis drops to the ground suddenly, arranging his limbs about himself languidly, as if he’s determined to remind them that yes, he’s a dragon, capable of fully relaxing even if he should be watching them like a hawk.

“Yes, I do. Her weapons are in good shape and her clothes may have seen better days, but if she’s been on her own for so long, considering the transmission’s possible date, she’d be in much worse condition.” Shiro pulls the cloth away from his face. He folds it over and presses against the claw marks again, pulling away to check the bleeding. It already looks to be stopping. Shiro looks at Keith, “Think about it, she was pretty adamant on following us and quick to accuse us of looking for survivors. If she was alone with a dragon, wouldn’t it make more sense to just avoid us, regardless if we found evidence of her being here? One person on a planet is easy to overlook. Especially a dying one.”

Keith sits back with a grunt, crossing his legs and running a hand through his hair. His head hurts but he’s determined not to show it. “I guess. But...how are we supposed to just let her do this? We don’t know anything about this place, the records are so old. We don’t even know her name, Shiro.”

“Katli,” she speaks from the darkness so suddenly, they both startle. They never heard or even sensed her approach. Noctis rumbles a greeting deep in his chest, looking up from having been rubbing his nose against a nearby tree. 

“What?” Keith asks, feeling a little slow on the uptake. What is a catly?

“My name, it is Katli,” she approaches quietly, a stalk of some sort of plant in her hands. “And what’s a dragon?”

Keith blinks and points to Noctis. “That. That’s a dragon.”

Katli looks a little confused, furrowing her brows and poking out her bottom lip. She looks at Noctis then back at them, a fang worrying her bottom lip. “No, Noctis is…Noctis. If you mean his species, like what animal he’s fashioned after, my people call him an _Olrizk_ , a reptilian animal with camouflage capabilities. They are nocturnal and live deep in the mountains underground during the day. Most cannot handle extreme sun, they are blinded by it.” Katli talks with a surprising amount of ease as she takes a seat beside Shiro, her legs folded under her so she’s sitting on her shins. She takes the cloth from Shiro, looking closely at his cheek and nods.

“Aren’t your people supposed to be, I don’t know, super secretive?” Keith grouches, eyeing her closely as she milks a thick viscous liquid from the stalk of the planet she has. It reminds him of an aloe vera plant.

“The Galra have all the intel they could ever want now. No point in hiding when we’re going to die out,” Katli dead pans. Her openness makes Keith nervous. It’s not normal. “This will burn for a moment,” she warns before pressing the cloth to Shiro’s face. The black paladin yelps, reaching up to grab Katli’s wrist. His hand grabs around the markings painted on Katli’s wrist and she winces, her hand giving a small spasm with the effort to not break Shiro’s grip. When Shiro finally releases her hand, she pulls it back slowly. Keith eyes the slight tremor she ignores determinedly. 

“We?” Keith repeats with a glance to the trees around them. “So you aren’t alone.”

“No,” Katli admits after a moment of reluctance. She shakes her marked hand before looking up at Shiro. “Hold it there for a few more dobashes, at least until it starts to feel cool.” 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you,” Shiro nods to her wrist, which Keith is moderately alarmed to see has already bruised. 

Katli shrugs, “Its fine. It’s expected to be tender after healing Noctis.” She turns to Lance, glancing at Keith for silent permission. Keith bristles slightly, looking away. Those stupid eyes of hers are unnerving. She creeps forward, places a hand on Lance’s neck like Shiro had before to feel for his pulse. She lowers her head until her ear is place close to his chest. Keith tries not to watch when he notices that they twitch very slightly. She makes a noise high in her throat when she pulls away.

“What?” Keith snaps to attention, immediately on edge. Is that a good noise? A bad noise? She ignores him, much to his growing annoyance, and carefully works her fingers under Lance’s neck, feeling very carefully for what Keith would assume is a spinal injury. 

“Okay, his neck appears fine to be moved,” she turns to Keith and motions him closer. “Sit him up, carefully.” Keith nods and moves to Lance’s opposite side. He lifts Lance slowly until he’s sitting up and maneuvers the blue paladin until his arm and shoulder are bracing Lance’s chest, his forehead pressed against his collar bone so it doesn’t flop at an uncomfortable angle. 

“I need this armor off,” Katli mutters, unsure how to remove it. 

“Under the armpit, there’s a clasp there, and another underneath his ribcage,” Shiro offers, leaning forward to watch as Katli slips her fingers to undo the latches. Keith feels Lance’s face scrunch when Katli undoes the latch next to his ribs. 

“Wait, I think he’s waking,” Keith says, leaning back a bit to look at Lance’s face. Keith grabs his shoulders, carefully leaning him back a little. Katli puts her palms up on the back of his shoulders to better stabilize Lance so Keith can press a hand to his forehead. “Lance? Can you hear me?”

Lance’s face remains lax for a moment, then scrunches up in apparent pain. He makes a noise through his nose and Keith can see his eyes open just a crack. Keith ducks to get a better look, but the blue paladin’s eyes look unfocused and cloudy. Lance doesn’t make a sound or move, too out of it to really do anything.

“Keith?” Shiro asks, worry saturating his voice.

“He’s just staring at me. I don’t think he’s really here,” Keith answers the silent question and dips his head to look at Lance better. “Hey Lance, it’s Keith. You’re okay, but you need to stay awake. Blink if you understand.”

Lance doesn’t do anything for a long moment, and then slowly, he blinks. Some awareness comes back to his face. Keith nods to Katli to continue and she does so without a word, slowly removing the plate from Lance’s back. She reaches up to the zipper at the base of Lance’s neck and slowly draws it down to the small of Lance’s back. When she carefully peels some of the sweat sticky material away from Lance’s skin to reveal his ribcage, both she and Shiro wince.

“What’s wrong?” Keith immediately asks, turning his attention away from Lance to them. He leans forward a bit, letting Lance rest his forehead against his collarbone so he can see Lance’s back. 

The tan skin is quickly turning mottled blue and black over his sides.


	5. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance receives some emergency first aid (granted it’s not much), the Paladins gain a little insight to the deities and guardians, and Katli makes some promises she may not be able to keep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author is an idiot and accidentally deleted this chapter the first time.
> 
> Super late update, apologies, a lot of personal issues cropped up this past month. Enjoy 6k words and a little Lance whump
> 
> [Tumblr](https://jinxetta.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Chapter Warnings: Descriptions of Injury, Mild Language, Whump

“Broken ribs. I thought so. His breathing was off when I listened,” Katli says, laying a hand on Lance’s back with a feather light touch.

The reaction is immediate. Lance gives a strangled gasp at the barely there contact, a hand reaching to grasp wildly at Keith’s arm with very little coordination. Keith snaps, “Hey, careful!”

Katli snatches her hand back at his shout, eyes wide, but eventually levels Keith with an unamused glare. 

Lance shudders against Keith, his breath hot, fast, and shallow against Keith’s neck. Katli pulls her hands to her chest, wringing them with uncertainty. Shiro crawls forward, placing a hand on the back of Lance’s head. 

“Lance, you need to calm down,” Shiro’s voice cuts through the rising panic. “Katli here is going to help, aren’t you?” He levels a stern gaze upon the Dalquinian, to which she blinks owlishly.

Katli jumps as if she’s just realizing that she needs to answer with more than a nod. She swallows thickly. “I, um… I need to check to make certain he hasn’t punctured anything, but…” she trails off uncertainly and both Keith and Shiro wince. The process in which she needs to do that in the field certainly will not feel good. “I have some numbing agents in my pack? I don’t know how they will affect your species, but we could try?”

“I don’t know,” Shiro says apprehensively. He remembers the one time Pidge tried alien drugs to banish a headache. He’d had a rough time trying to convince her to come down from the air vent because no, the floor was not lava. 

They sit in silence for a long time. Eventually Lance goes limp in Keith’s hold, but his breathing evens out. Keith knows he’s still somewhat aware because every now and then, Lance’s breathing turns sharp and painful, stuttering to a stop. Katli creeps forward again and, after raising a hand to Lance’s back, looks to Keith. Keith’s hands tighten around Lance’s biceps, but he sighs and nods.

“Okay, Lance,” Katli whispers, placing a hand on Lance’s shoulder, “I’m going to be as gentle as I can.” He still sucks in a sharp breath when her hands touch his back. Shiro coaches Lance through his breathing as Katli lets her hands skirt over his ribs a little at a time. She tries to go quickly to get it over fast, but by the time she’s done, Lance is a shivering, sweaty mess.

“I think he’s okay,” she whispers, as if she’s afraid talking too loud will startle Lance. 

“You think?” Keith snarls quietly; he can feel Lance going limp again and a quick look at his eyes shows the blue paladin is fighting to remain awake. “Why is he so out of it?”

Katli looks to the darkness surrounding them, the moonlight doing very little to illuminate the dense forest. “I don’t know. I’m not exactly a healer. I’m a person of many talents, but very little mastery.” She stands up and goes to Noctis’s side, prompting the dragon to croon at her when he nuzzles her side in question. She ducks past him and disappears into the ravine where her camp is. She reappears after a moment, her backpack swung up over a narrow shoulder, “We’ll have to be careful moving him. I can’t properly treat him here.”

Keith bristles, glancing warily at Shiro. “Move Lance?” He inquires as the paladin in question groans at the thought, “move him where?”

Katli looks up at the giant hole in the canopy that Noctis’s fire has created. A thoughtful expression comes over her dirty, sunken face. “My home camp is not far from here, certainly much closer than the Red Lion. Lance needs proper treatment. I’m assuming you have people off planet waiting for you?”

“Yes,” Shiro confirms after a brief pause. “The castleship has cryopods that can heal Lance within a few varga,” Shiro supplies, but Katli shakes her head quickly when she looks back at them.

“Your people will not be able to land with the storms,” Katli explains carefully. “The storms will disperse in a few days, but until then, no ship will be able to make it through unharmed. Even if they did land, there a chance the storm will take out much more than just your healing pods.”

“You’re offering help?” Shiro asks carefully, eyeing the dragon behind them as he stands and paces off a good distance away. “Regardless, my team is no doubt amassing an assault to come to our aid. I need to contact them to mitigate any hostile actions,” Shiro trails off uncertainly, not quite sure if there is even a remote possibility of an alliance now.

Katli nods, bending to pick up her bow and quiver. “I’m assuming you weren’t searching for us just for the knowledge we survived,” she stated simply. She quickly slips her quiver over her thin shoulders. “It really isn’t that hard to figure out you were hoping for an alliance. The Galra are many and those that are not controlled or corrupted by them are few.”

Katli runs her fingers over the ends of the bow, as if checking to see the state of the string. She slips that over her shoulders too. Keith watches her closely as she approaches Noctis, climbing onto his muzzle. “I don’t speak for my people as a whole, but if you truly are who you say you are, then I can assure you, this misunderstanding will be easily overlooked. There are many of us whom grow tired of hiding in the shadows.”

Katli crouches between two of the spines sweeping up Noctis’s muzzle as the dragon lifts her up to the tall trees above them. Noctis has to rise up to his hind legs to achieve the height needed for Katli to reach the arrow she’d embedded into the tree. She struggles to pull it out for a moment. Keith isn’t sure if it’s a testament to how deep she’d managed to sink the arrow or a laughable giveaway that she’s actually pretty weak otherwise. 

She falls on her rear once the arrow is dislodged. Noctis growls in what Keith assumes is worry. Katli’s quick to wrap an arm around a facial spine to prevent her from falling. Noctis lowers her to the ground once he’s sure she is safe. Katli lets herself slip off the scaled muzzle, rubbing her sore backside. Keith can’t help but feel some smug satisfaction at her slight discomfort. Noctis rises up to his full height once Katli is safe on the ground once more. Katli turns the arrow around in her hand and Keith can see it’s another metal one like the one from the village, this time fletched with bright blue feathers. There’s a small device that’s blinking red next to the large arrow head. 

“I will vouch for you,” Katli says uneasily, “I can do my best to get you an audience with what remains of my tribe. They won’t be as quick to believe you are Voltron without proof, but I have enough sway to guarantee your safety. I’ll let you contact your people with strict instructions that until you contact them again, they do not do anything foolish. I was not the only one informed of your landing upon Dalquin.”

Some of the tension visibly drains from Shiro’s shoulders. He sighs heavily and nods, grateful that Katli is at least going to let them contact the others. “Thank you.”

Katli nods and approaches Keith and Lance once more. Lance has grown still enough that Keith thinks he’s unconscious again. “Couldn’t we bind his chest or something?” Keith asks.

“We could, but it’s actually not wise in the long run. It could result in later complications,” Kalti mumbles, her brow furrowed as she thinks. When Katli gently touches her fingertips to his shoulder, it elicits a response. Lance turns to her, his eyes somewhat more aware than before. He blinks for a moment then narrows his eyes, his sight training in on some part of Katli’s face.

“Ears,” he mumbles, to which Katli smiles softly. She wiggles her ears up and down, to which Lance snorts some and then hisses, a hand going to wrap around his side. Katli quickly grabs his wrist to stop the movement. “That would be unwise. Lance, I’ll let you make the decision.”

Lance stares at her, some color returning to his cheeks and Keith groans when a well-known grin tugs at Lance’s pale lips. “So quick…to get me naked?”

Katli grins back with a shake of her head. “You jest now.”

Lance goes to laugh, but wheezes instead, his face washing out of color. Keith grits his teeth and looks at Katli. Shiro speaks up from fiddling with his helmet. “Let’s just get him comfortable for now; I don’t want him passing out again.”

Katli nods, “We can re-evaluate once we get to a better location. We must not stay out here too long.”

It takes a moment to get Lance’s arms out of the suit and requires a lot of gentle maneuvering that still doesn’t mitigate the pain much. He’s cognizant enough now that he can sit up on his own. He still seems somewhat out of it, but he’s speaking more now. Meanwhile, Shiro is trying to hail the castle. Katli is quick to wrap Lance’s ribs tight. By the end of the ordeal, Lance’s face is ashen again and he’s panting shallowly. Katli places a hand high on his back right above his spine and counts softly. Lance eventually manages to find a rhythm that works for his bound chest and seems to doze off again. Keith gently lowers him to the ground, keeping a close eye on his breathing incase the position isn’t comfortable. Lance’s brow pinches for a moment before relaxing some. He’s not quite asleep, but he appears okay for now. Keith remains close.

Katli wipes her hands on the dirty material of her dark shorts. When she sits back on her rump, Keith notices a welt appearing on her shin. He eyes it closely then looks her up and down a little more carefully, not noticing any apparent wounds that would require bandaging other than the mark Shiro’s earlier strike had left. Katli shifts under his gaze nervously, drawing farther away from him. 

“Princess, Coran? Can you hear me?” Shiro’s voice draws their attention and Keith reaches for his helmet, pulling it on his head so he can tune into the comms.

Static erupts in his ear followed by Pidge’s shriek. “You guys attacked a quiznacking deity?! How are you still alive?!”

Keith growls, “He attacked us.”

Shiro makes a gesture with his hands which Keith assumes means for him to be quiet. “We survived. Noctis saw reason. Princess? Can you hear me?”

There is a silence over the comms before the static breaks up once more. Katli rubs one long ear with a hand, wincing. She apparently can hear well. Allura’s voice wavers in after a moment. “Yes, Shiro. I’m here. Are you all alright? Lance’s vitals are worrying us.”

“We’ll survive. Lance is hurt, but it’s not critical. More importantly, we’re not alone. You were right,” Shiro is a bit breathless as he finally realizes that against all odds, they’ve discovered something thought hopeless. Shiro nods to Katli, who picks up Lance’s helmet and puts it on her head delicately, her ears twitching in what appears worry. She appears afraid of it.

“Right? You mean-“ Allura’s voice is painfully quiet, afraid to hope that one of the last things connecting her to her mother is actually still alive.

“Hello,” Katli says in a quiet voice that cuts out all sound over the comms. Even the background noise of Hunk worriedly muttering in the background stops. “Shiro here tells me you’ve been searching for us. And that you wish for an alliance.”

Allura is quiet for so long, Shiro is afraid the transmission has cut out. He looks at Katli who nods uncertainly. Finally Allura speaks, the relief in her voice tangible, “Yes. Yes, we have. I’m Princess Allura, daughter of King Alfor and Queen-“

“I know who you are ,” Katli cuts her off. Allura’s sharp breath of air is hard to ignore. “The elders make us remember our history very well, even after all this time. I’m afraid we do not have long. The storms are about to get more violent.”

“Why, yes, of course,” Allura’s voice seems almost shell shocked. “May I have your name?”

“Katli, daughter of Keeper Lye,” she answers confidently, and Keith wonders if that’s how they identify themselves. Instead of last names like humans, they are identified by their parents. “I’ll be quick; the storms will not allow you to land. If you try, your ship might be damaged beyond immediate and quick repair.”

“One of my Paladins is injured and you expect me to just sit by-“ Allura’s voice is quickly taking a turn to angry.

“They should clear up in another day or two with a time frame long enough for you to land. I’ll take care of your team in the meantime, by the honor of my father before me.” Katli cuts her off, plowing ahead like she’d never been interrupted at all. “They may not be able to contact you much, but please do not do anything foolish until you have permission to land. I will appeal to my elders for an audience.”

There is silence on the comms, broken by static. Allura is no doubt weighing her options. “I know I’m asking a lot of someone you’ve only just met, but I promise you. Nothing will come to the harm of the Paladins.”

“Alright,” Allura finally relents after another round of tense silence. “But should any of their vitals drop or alarm us, do not expect me to sit by ideally.” Allura’s voice is fiercer now, more like her normal self. She’s fallen quickly into her normal role as Princess.

“Certainly,” Katli says with a look at Lance. She looks at Shiro and nods to him, removing the helmet quickly with a look of discomfort. She rubs one of her ears.

“We’ll be fine Princess,” Shiro assures her, even though he’s still not quite sure himself where this will lead them. “I’ll try to contact you in a few varga with an update.”

“Be careful, Shiro,” Allura says, no doubt feeling useless because her hands are tied. With a deity at Katli’s disposal there isn’t much they can do, even if the lions could land, should this prove to end unfavorably for them.

  


* * *

  


Moving Lance without causing him any more discomfort than he’s already in proves to be a challenge. Shiro is perplexed as how to move him without exacerbating his abused ribs more than necessary. Katli doesn’t help the situation when she reveals that while their destination is indeed closer than the Red Lion, it will still take several vargas to travel there. She mentions if they make good time, they may get there before sunrise. Shiro wonders if this planet’s day cycle is longer that what he’s accustomed to. Lance, who is considerably more coherent now, pales at the thought of having to walk for that long when he can barely stand to walk the several feet it took to lean him against the fallen tree trunk. 

Keith makes a comment about using Noctis to carry Lance, since the deity was the one who caused this whole mess. Noctis is very quick to let them know his opinion. Keith’s left rubbing his arm where the deity’s tail had not so gently cuffed him.

“What’s up with everything trying to knock me on my ass?” Keith grumbles.

“Language,” Shiro admonishes half-heartedly from Lance’s side. He takes the water bottle from Lance’s shaking fingers, pointedly ignoring them for the sake of Lance’s pride. “You good, buddy?”

Face still much too pale, Lance nods jerkily. “Yea. Just peachy.”

Katli sighs when she returns from a quiet conversation with Noctis. She’s spent quite a few dobashes trying to convince the dragon to give them a piggy back ride.

“No luck?” Shiro asks, placing a hand on Lance’s shoulder.

Katli shakes her head, rubbing at the bridge of her nose. She smears the black dirt she’s using for camouflage a bit more, streaking her filthy face more gray than black. “No. Unfortunately Noctis has chosen to be a child,” she raises her voice at this and looks over shoulder. Noctis snarls his displeasure and flops to the ground like an overgrown dog that was just told it couldn’t go for a walk. The ground shakes and Lance pales, a hand gripping Shiro when the force makes him shift too quickly. Shiro winces in sympathy. “He refuses to help Lance. He says he’s not a glorified mode of transportation, but in all honesty, he’s still sore about his eye.”

Lance wheezes a laugh, “Yea well, I’m sore about my ribs. We’re even, his eye is back. Now fix my ribs please.” Lance really doesn’t mean for it to come out as a petulant whine, but he’s hurting and his brain is running much slower than him mouth.

Keith glances down at Lance, his fingers tapping an impatient rhythm on his arm from where they’re crossed over his chest. “Couldn’t you just command him? Or use that magic healing on Lance?”

Katli gives Keith a dry look. “I’m not Noctis’s Keeper. He’s just fond of me because of my father.” Katli looks down at her wrist, flexing her fingers. There’s a large welt on her skin there as well as the one on her leg. “And without a medium, the runes only work on deities who have a claim on me.” 

Shiro frowns, committing the information to memory. So many questions he has that he hopes she can answer. “Let’s just start moving. We’ll take it little by little. The longer we wait here, the longer Lance goes without proper treatment.”

Katli glances at Lance and gives a sigh, nodding. After strapping Lance’s armor back on, Shiro helps him to his feet, but Lance refuses to let Shiro help him walk. 

It starts off okay.

Lance can walk relatively well on his own, albeit slowly. Lance makes little quips here and there, but Shiro notices within half a varga that he can’t hold his bayard anymore. He clips it to his waist in its neutral form and stops speaking for longer periods. Shiro stays close to Lance, but his attention is divided. Keith is on edge around Katli, enough that Shiro isn’t sure what he may do. 

Keith can be reckless at times, but never before has Shiro ever doubted him like he is now with Katli’s presence throwing Keith off.

Katli tries to take them along what appears to be a relatively easy route, but the terrain is wild and uneven in most places. She walks ahead, her ears twitching frequently. She’s silent for the most part, only speaking when they come to an area of the dense forest that needs careful attention to traverse. Shiro can barely see a thing, relying on the lights of their suits and Katli’s pale figure to guide them. Katli moves with such an unseen ease in the darkness that Shiro has no doubt her eyes have the ability to see better at night. 

The silence is a bit unnerving, broken by Lance’s rasping breaths. “So, Katli,” he starts, to which the Dalquinian stops momentarily to look at him. 

“Yes,” she answers while using her bow to push aside a mess of thorny vines to allow them to cross. Shiro doesn’t have the heart to tell her that her thoughtful action isn’t needed with their armor.

“You said you were tracking us for a while. How? I’m assuming the storms affect your technology as well,” Shiro starts, hoping to make some light conversation and maybe get some answers to the questions that are burning a hole through his mind.

“When the Galra attacked, they destroyed most of our larger settlements that had advanced technology. We lost the means of communication that way long before the storms started,” she answers easily. She seems easy going now that she isn’t threatening them. Though looking at her malnourished, weakened form, Shiro doubts she could have done much to harm them without Noctis there.

“What are you doing out here alone? And injured?” Keith asks with a sharp and cutting tone. Katli stops to level a harsh look of her own, the wariness back in her gaze. It seems Keith sets her on edge to. Keith shrugs half-heartedly, averting his gaze to watch Lance stagger over a rough patch of uneven ground. He steadies the blue paladin without a second thought. “We found your campsite. And bloody bandages.”

Katli makes a noise deep in her throat, twisted her head back around. Now that Keith is closer to her, he can see she tilts her torso in just a way that favors her left side. “Since I’m relatively unharmed compared to most and a good tracker, I was given the task of looking for survivors and trying to guide them back to base camp.”

Shiro pauses, waiting for Katli to take the lead again. “It’s been a few days since you’ve been back, hasn’t it?” Katli is silent for a moment, her face troubled before Shiro realizes she might not know what a day is. Then she nods once. It’s a sharp motion that looks forced.

“There aren’t many of us so I’ve been running search cycles longer than my superiors prefer.” Keith doesn’t look happy with this explanation and Shiro feels like Katli is leading the conversation somewhere else. Lance reaches for Shiro’s shoulder, grasping it tightly. Shiro pauses and lets Lance lean on him. Lance pulls Shiro closer and whispers something urgently in his ear.

“The footprints at the campsite,” Shiro starts, to which Katli freezes, her shoulders drawn up tightly. “There were two different sizes. There’s someone else out here.”

Keith immediately draws his bayard, the sword flashing into existence. Katli jumps, shying away from the blade quickly, a hand pressed to her side. Her gaze is wide with fright and Shiro jumps forward to hold Keith back. But Noctis does not come from the shadows to save Katli even if she’s really in no danger. Neither does the person Shiro is sure is following them make an appearance. There’s a standoff for a moment, before Katli speaks, her figure trembling somewhat, “I swear, other than Noctis, I’m alone. I met up with a friend a few days ago, but it’s been a while since I saw them.”

Shiro isn’t quite ready to accept it fully, but he knows Katli’s reaction to the fear of getting struck down by Keith’s sword is real enough to persuade her into not lying. If he were to guess, he’d say her wound was from a sword.

“Keith, that’s enough,” Shiro orders firmly, to which Keith eyes Katli with mistrust before begrudgingly obeying him. Shiro is unsure what is going on, but ever since Ulaz’s sacrifice, Keith has been much more volatile and distant. They’ve all been, but Keith more so. He used to be able to approach him about things like this but now, Shiro is not so sure his concern would be so welcomed. “I’m sorry, there’s just a lot going on right now that’s hard to take in.”

Katli nods slowly, her throat working as she swallows nervously. She eyes Lance before motioning for them to continue. “We’re about to enter the deep woods, it’s best to keep the talking to a minimum. It’s not exactly safe.”

This time the silence is even tenser, but now Katli is on edge even more. It makes for a rough time for them. They aren’t sure if she’s nervous because of them or the surrounding forest.

They lose track of time again and the forest grows even thicker. They’re forced to travel in a tight group at most points, almost tripping over each other in an effort to keep close to their guide. Shiro is much more worried about Lance, who can no longer walk a straight line and stumbles about like he’s drunk. Shiro has to keep a hand on his arm more often than not to guide him. Shiro can see the sweat dripping off his chin and hear his whistling gasps as he struggles to get enough air. They’ve taken to travelling quickly, a fast walk, almost jogging at times to keep up with Katli who seems to want to leave the area as quickly as possible. The push to move faster is too much for Lance. 

When Katli finally whispers they are out of the ‘deep woods’ as she had called them, Shiro calls a halt because he knows Lance will keep going until he passes out again. He’s already half dead on his feet.

“Can we rest for a bit, I’m feeling a bit light headed,” Shiro touches his still sore cheek, using that as an excuse in lieu of throwing Lance under the bus.

Katli looks around wearily and then nods. When Shiro helps lower Lance against the base of a tree, Lance leans back with a wobbly sigh, shooting his leader a grateful look. Keith scowls at Lance and looks around, clenching his fists at his sides. 

Shiro motions for Keith to tend to Lance when the blue paladin isn’t looking. Keith grunts and crouches next to the Cuban, taking the canteen of water Shiro offers to try to coax Lance to drink. It gives the red paladin something to do that doesn’t involve making their only guide even more nervous than she already is. Shiro approaches Katli, whose eyes are shifting about nervously. He pauses himself, feeling her unease.

“Something you need to tell me?” Shiro asks, trying to keep suspicion out of his voice.

Katli jumps at his words. “These woods aren’t safe at night. Not anymore.”

Shiro frowns, glancing back at Lance and Keith. “But the Galra are gone.”

“Not all the Galra have left. There are still lingering drones.” Katli pulls out the arrow Lance had found at the village. Shiro blinks, not having noticed the moment when Lance had returned it to her. Katli runs a claw delicately over the pink fletched feather. “I’ve been cleaning them up as I search for survivors myself.” Maybe a drone got the better of her in a scuffle. It’s been too long since the genocide for her wound to remain unless she’s been lax in tending to it. Shiro highly doubts that from what he’s seen of her medical knowledge so far. Katli tucks the arrow back into her quiver, “But it’s not the drones I’m worried about.”

Shiro feels a chill rush down his spine. That does not sound good at all. The quiet of the woods and darkness seems to press in on him. Normally silence in a forest at night would mean danger. This is no exception, but it’s even more disconcerting because there was no sound to begin with. “What?”

Katli looks at him, her wide eyes even wider with her wariness. The whites of her eyes are bright, startling so, shot through with blue veins. Blood shot, probably from a lack of sleep. “Deities are in uproar and the animals rabid. Our planet is remotely peaceful, even amongst our predators. Most of our wildlife has an above average intelligence. But now there are no friends, no allies. Now it’s just basic animal instinct. I don’t know if we encounter something if it’s going to ignore us, run away, or attack for no reason. Most of the animals that remain reside here in the deep woods because it’s so hard to navigate and incredibly easy to lose your way.”

“Why did Noctis leave?” Shiro asks, having understood now why Katli had the guardian accompanying her.

“He likes me, but he’s not inclined to help with everything.” She replied smoothly and easily.

“Katli,” Shiro places a hand on her shoulder, “we’re giving you a lot of trust here, but I can’t help like you are leading us into a trap.” Her skin feels paper thin, bones protruding through. Up close, her skin appears to have a soft blue glow that is not from the moonlight. That’s blacked out by the trees and even if they weren’t under the forest canopy, the ever present rumble of thunder hints at the clouds that are no doubt blanketing the sky. ‘Her blood,’ his mind supplies, it’s not red so pale skin tones would be more washed out instead of flushed. It’s a sharp contrast against her chapped lips.

“How much do you know about us, about our deities to be exact?”

Shiro just shrugs, looking back at his two teammates who are tuning into their conversation, “Not much. Coran mentioned you have Guardians to protect the people and self-aware deities that serve to protect the planet.”

Katli shrugs and makes a motion so they can move closer to Lance and Keith. “Noctis as he is currently is what we call a deity, a being capable of mentally bonding with us.” Katli holds up her wrist, the one with the characters on it. The ink looks like smudges of darker skin, like weird birthmarks up close. “Those Dalquinians with the ability to bond with a deity are called keepers, marked upon presentation by runes on their wrist. Once a deity bonds with a keeper, we call the pair guardians.”

Lance leans forward, a hand cradling his side, to look at the marks; they look like washed out Henna tattoos now that he thinks about it. “So Guardians are a pair, a deity and keeper.”

Katli nods, “Yes.”

“Do all deities have a keeper? The person in the video mentioned the Guardians had fallen. If you are only in training, I’m guessing that you have a mentor,” Shiro asks.

“No, only a certain few choose to accept keepers,” Katli whispers. “I’m all that left unless a deity has laid claim or bonded to a survivor in hiding. It’s the rogue deities, the one with no keepers, I’m worried about. Lately, we’ve noticed they are growing more aggressive and seem to be regressing to a more animal state of mind.”

Keith seems to be struggling with the information. Shiro doesn’t really blame him; it is a lot to take in. Shiro turns to look at Katli’s grim covered face. “And Noctis? You said he isn’t a guardian. Yet, he looks to be doing well in keeping his mind about him.”

“Noctis has always been more inclined to interacting with us more than most. Noctis has a claim on me, so he tends to hover close by and doesn’t mind playing along with ne,” Katli is tracing a rune with a finger. Keith notes that despite them being just a dirty as the rest of her, they are also covered in small nicks along the joints of her fingers from over use of her bow. Is that the only weapon she knows how to handle?

Keith folds his arms, chin tucked to his chest as he thinks. “What happens when one part of the bond dies? A mental bond like that seems pretty important.”

Katli draws her hand back, tucking it against her stomach. “It takes considerable force to kill a deity in general, guardian or not. Deities are practically immortal, but we are not. We die of old age, disease, injury. Most deities aren’t affected long term; they have a brief period of grieving, but most deities who have bonds have been guardians numerous times before. They are used to the strain. Keepers are not as fortunate when surviving a ripped bond. But the deities now...”

Keith is about to rush ahead and ask another question, but Katli silences him, much to his annoyance, with a sharp look. “Some of the deities have been negatively affected by the breaking of the bonds, due to being in combat at the time. Frontline deities like Noctis and Tyan are normally used to bonds breaking down in combat scenarios, but this was different.” Katli stands, equipping her bow once more. “The dangers lie now in the deities that once protected us. You are more at danger than I am, because you are not of this planet; even more so if you showcase your Galra arm.”

Katli stands abruptly. It ends the conversation with a finality that is obvious. This is not a conversation she wants to have. Shiro cannot blame her; the genocide has cost them tremendously.

“We shouldn’t remain here any longer. We should keep moving. Noctis went to scout ahead, but he can only do so much,” she doesn’t give them much time to get to their feet before she’s moving. 

Lance is considerably weaker this time. The short respite hasn’t done nearly enough for the injured paladin. Katli is even more on edge, having drawn her bow and holding an arrow at the ready. It’s not long before Lance is back to wheezing and tottering about like a newborn fawn. Shiro is impressed that he manages another varga and thinks that perhaps they might make it relatively safely. He assumes they are close; Katli has taken to running ahead and darting back, her nervous energy feeding Keith who circles around Shiro and Lance. Lance’s steps falter, coming to a broken halt and Shiro stops immediately. He turns to face Lance and has about three seconds for his brain to catch up before the blue paladin’s eyes roll back into his head and he collapses. Shiro barely manages to catch the crumpled body before it hits the ground. 

“Lance!”

Keith is at his side instantly and Katli returns at hearing Shiro’s cry. She has her bow drawn, pointed to the trees, before she realizes the shout was not because of an attack. She hovers on the edge of their group as Shiro removes Lance’s helmet. His face is white and slick with sweat. Shiro taps his cheek and immediately sighs in relief when Lance groans. Lance opens his eyes slowly and stares blankly before some recognition comes back. “Did I,” he sucks in a sharp breath, “pass out again?”

Shiro nods, reaching up to feel his forehead. “Yea, buddy. Can you sit up?”

Lance doesn’t try to put on a brave face, just mutters softly, “I’ll try.”

Lance’s face contorts and twists with the movement, but he manages to push himself in a sitting position. He sways sideways with a keen, curling over his stomach. “Oh God, this hurts.” His breathing is sharp and shallow, borderline hyperventilating. Katli kneels beside them to gently press her fingers to his pulse. 

“You’re breathing sounds clear. It’s probably just the pain. We’re almost there, Lance. Then you can rest and won’t have to move for a while.” Lance nods, trying to regulate his breathing, but Lance seems to being going paler if possible.

Lance’s shoulders heave, “I-I don’t-“ He gags, a hand coming up to his mouth. Shiro instantly realizes what’s going to happen and reaches forward to shove Lance’s head between his knees just as Lance begins retching. Keith has just enough time to leap clear before Lance is vomiting the water and half-digested ration bars from earlier. A sob tears its way past his throat and Shiro can see the agony written on his face. Tears are running down Lance’s red blotched cheeks when he collapses sideways, shivering in pain.

Shiro raises his hand to put on Lance’s back, but Katli’s tiny fingers hold him back. He blushes in embarrassment of his almost mistake before moving to hold onto the back of Lance’s neck. One of Lance’s hands latches on to his, clenching it tightly. “Just let it all out, it’s okay.”

Lance gags for a few more minutes, bring up a little more water and then just stomach acid before he’s gasping, clawing at his chest piece frantically. Keith understands, and while Shiro keeps Lance grounded by keeping a grip on his neck, Keith works at the clasps of his chest place. Katli reaches to the zipper of Lance’s body and lowers it, quickly using her claws to slice through the bandages that are restricting his breathing. Lance takes a shuddering, deep breath, keening when he finally gets enough oxygen but at the cost of more fire erupting in his side. 

“It’s okay, nice and slow,” Shiro whispers, tightening his fingers on his neck. 

It takes several dobashes, but Lance eventually manages to find a breathing pattern that works. Shiro nods to Keith, who ducks under Lance to lift an arm around his shoulders. Lance bites his lip to not make a noise as he’s levered onto his feet. Shiro takes up Lance’s other side when he threatens to fall over again. They can’t afford to give him time to recover. They need to move now.

“Noctis went ahead once we cleared the worst to inform the camp we were coming,” Katli says as they begin walking again, practically dragging Lance along with them. It’s awkward with Lance trying to help by walking. Eventually he just becomes dead weight, letting himself be half dragged, half carried. Keith keeps his head lowered to listen closely to his breathing. Lance is clinging to consciousness with his normal bull headed stubbornness. 

When they break the tree line, Shiro doesn’t have any warning before the moonlight practically blinds them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I’ve noticed a lot of authors lately have been posting something along these lines somewhere. I, as a young reader once, always hated it when authors would ask for comments and feedback on their work because it seemed like begging, but not that I’m on the receiving end I realize how important it is for that feedback.
> 
> So please, take a moment to drop a comment, or even kudos is oh don’t want to talk. Whether that comment is one word or something about a certain scene you liked or a character’s reaction, it is so great appreciated!
> 
> Comments, kudos, likes, bookmarks, these are the ONLY way authors know if they are doing a good or even bad job. I will never hold chapters hostage for more reviews/comments/kudos, but I will be honest in that if I feel like this is not a well received work, I will stop writing it.
> 
> So, that being said, thanks for reading!


	6. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Lance gains a new friend, a leader is met, and Shiro's meets a face he'd never thought to see again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few days late. I've been working through pretty nasty writer's block by working on self indulgent projects. Mostly at this point, I have one more full chapter written out, half of another and two late story chapters mapped out. Right now I'm just trying to stay on top of writing a set amount every week, whether that relates to LLTS or not. Next few chapters might be a little low on word count so quality stays the same. I realize I'm introducing a lot of new original characters and cultural dynamics so if things get confusing, please let me know. I'm trying to keep things moving along but also not too quickly, which is hard because I know so much about my species that others don't. haha
> 
> Bright side: I picked up a part time beta! She's helping me hammer out plot points and character development as well as editing things in the chapters.
> 
> Chapter Warnings: Nothing really, Mild Language? (I might as well just tag this on every chapter because I never seem to remember if it really applies or not xD)
> 
> [Tumblr](https://jinxetta.tumblr.com/)

The so called ‘camp’ is not what Shiro expects. It’s not a camp. To one side is a vast stretch of water, rippling faintly in the night. High cliff walls rise on the other side of them, the rocks just as black as the inky darkness of the forest behind them. There are no other people within sight and no tents or even signs of anyone having been here. There’s only one way to go and that’s forward down a very thin outcropping of stone between the water and cliff face. The spray of the high cresting waves makes the smooth surface look even more ominous. The moon disappears behind a dark, thick cloud, allowing the blackness of night to encompass them once more. 

Katli motions them forward, jogging down the narrow pathway. The camp must be hidden somewhere along the coast. They follow with little choice, especially if they want Lance to receive help. As they traverse their way down the cliff side, Shiro makes note that the air smells like the oceans of home. He tries to garner a reaction from Lance, knowing the blue paladin would greatly appreciate the atmosphere, but Lance’s eyes are heavily glazed and his head wobbles about limply. He’s completely oblivious to the ocean spray that thoroughly soaks them.

Katli pauses suddenly and Shiro looks up. Ahead of them, where the narrow path widens and curves to disappear beyond sight, a pale figure is watching. It’s the first sign of life other than Katli and it’s like a sucker punch to the gut. 

They were right. 

When they get closer, the figure comes into focus and Shiro realizes that they were only partly correct in assuming survivors had made it. Shiro can only make out the vague shape of a large canine. It’s tall, made of all lean muscle and long legs. Its fur is pale, broken up by what Shiro assumes are markings, but he cannot make them out at this distance. 

Katli’s earlier warning of dangerous wildlife comes back to the forefront of his mind.

“It’s alright, he’s a friend,” Katli pacifies them as she helps guide them along. Quite suddenly, the cliff ledge opens up into a large overhang and cavern with a honey combed ceiling that allows snippets of moonlight to flicker through. The waves echo loudly in the large space. “Watch your step, it rises sharply here,” Katli’s voice is quiet now, her expression tight. The floor does indeed rise sharply once Shiro and Keith turn to the back. The stone around them is smooth, worn by the rise and fall of tides. 

Shiro nods his head to a flat raised bed of sorts, and together, he and Keith lower Lance down to lay limply on the stone. Lance moans softly at the change in position, his breath hitching, but other than that, the blue paladin is unresponsive. Shiro looks up to further take in their surroundings. The cavern is filled with the background noise of the surf, but it’s dry and looks to be sheltered from the incoming storm. The ledge they currently reside on curls around a dark pool, and if the ceiling weren’t so high, Shiro would be inclined to call it a cave. 

There’s another path that leads farther into the cliff side, closer to the ghostly creature still watching them from afar. Katli stands and motions it closer. It stares at them before moving forward with caution. Up close, Shiro is almost surprised by how normal it looks. It’s just as tall and thin framed as his previous assumption, with a deep chest and narrow waist like a cheetah or greyhound. The sea spray makes its long fur hang limply on its almost skeletal frame, but the gold eyes that watch them spark with a fierce light. 

“Inkus,” Katli near croons, getting down on one knee to take its long muzzle in her hands. Inkus is large, maybe the size of a small pony, and his ears are long, narrow and complete with tufts. If the canine had been any less willowy in appearance in any way, the ears would be outlandishly huge, like that of a donkey. Shiro had been correct in assume the markings; a smattering of freckles and rosettes in dark gray break up the ghostly canine’s figure. Katli runs her hands along Inkus’s back, inspecting a nasty looking gash along the span of its ribcage, then stands. 

Inkus turns his attention away from Shiro’s curious stare to look up at Katli. There are long feathers that spike up over his shoulders to make a scruffy sort of mane, which slowly blossom into a rainbow effect of colors. It’s so shocking that Shiro takes a step back and Keith cries out in alarm. Katli frowns at their reactions, “Calm down. Inkus is harmless. Most animals here have that ability.”

Inkus growls and behind him, his tail lifts in warning like a rattler’s. Only, much to Shiro’s further amazement, the tail splits into two long, fluffy appendages tipped in black. The tails don’t stay fluffy long with the spray of water. Inkus twitches and moves away from the edge of the water with a weary look. He stalks further into the drier part of the alcove and stops to stare at Lance’s prone body. Keith shifts into the creature’s line of sight, which prompts the canid to growl lowly. 

“Inkus, please,” Katli says distractedly, also approaching. Keith lets her pass, though it’s not without a noticeable displeasure. She checks over Lance briefly before Inkus lets out a noise, colors dancing across the feathers along his shoulders once more. Katli ignores him as she rifles through her backpack. She draws out a small container that reveals a strong smelling salve when she opens it. She hands it to Shiro, “If he wakes up, you can use this. It has a mild analgesic, should be safe if he particularly needs it. Just apply a small amount to his skin; we use it for burns so it should provide him with some comfort. You can use it for your cheek as well, Shiro.” She screws the cap back on the small container and leaves it beside her backpack. 

Inkus makes a noise, a strange huffing sound deep in the back of his throat that catches. Red streaks across his feathers and he snaps his jaws impatiently. Katli looks up at him and sighs, scratching her temple delicately with one claw. 

“I can’t stay. Inor requests my presence, no doubt to discuss your affairs,” Katli says as she stands, glancing at Lance in concern. “Inkus will guard you, though I will warn you that he is not alone in watching. Priha is close by.”

“Is that a threat?” Keith grounds out through clenched teeth, eyeing the canine as it makes itself at home on a ledge higher off the ground.

Katli scoffs, “Not particularly. But I can’t just leave you without someone to keep an eye on you. I’ll be back as soon as I can, hopefully with some help.”

“Will you really help us?” Shiro asks, feeling exhaustion creep into his bones. If he’s tired, he knows Keith is and Lance desperately needs medical attention. He’s not in immediate danger, but Shiro knows just how quickly things can turn for the worse.

“I don’t know much about humans,” Katli admits after a moment of tucking her bow away over her shoulder. “I know someone who does, though. I’ll try to contact them, but I don’t know if they are close.”

Katli moves as if to leave but stops, turning back to look at them. “If you need me, you can send Inkus to fetch me. I promised I would help you, Shiro. I don’t plan on breaking that promise.”

  


* * *

  


Shiro sighs as he leans back against the smooth rocky wall. He had removed his helmet a while ago and, after a brief debate, used some of the salve Katli had left on his cheek. There isn’t much, so Shiro bemoans having to use it for his cheek when Lance most certainly needs it, but the burn hurts enough that he can’t keep his eye open. At the very least, Shiro can be a guinea pig to be certain the salve is okay for them to use before Lance has any contact with it. 

The salve had been cool to the touch and smelled familiar, not quite different from some Earth medicine. The scent lingers, drifting into his nostrils every few inhales. He’s trying to get some semblance of sleep, but every time his mind manages to drift off, he catches a draft of the salve and it sends his brain into a loop. There is something about it that just wouldn’t let his mind rest.

Shiro opens his eyes to stare at the ceiling above them. After a few dobashes, he leans forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. He listens to the crashing of the surf not far from their moderately dry area as he examines the rise and fall of Lance’s chest with a critical eye. The thunder is louder and every few dobashes, lightning lights up the darkness of the cave.

Inkus’ eyes glow in the dark, two bright gold pin pricks the glare at them from the gloom. Keith and Inkus seem to be locked in a never ending staring contest. 

“You want to talk about what’s got you so on edge?” Shiro asks, breaking the silence. It’s obvious that no one is going to get any sleep, not with the raging storm approaching or with the tension this palpable. 

Keith jumps, breaking his stare with Inkus to look at Shiro with wide eyes. He crosses his arms and leans back, looking down and away from Shiro. 

“Keith,” Shiro knows that look pretty well. “I can’t help you if you don’t talk-“

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Keith snaps, his voice loud over the surf. 

Shiro winces, more at the harsh tone than the volume. The tension is back, only this time it’s between the two paladins. Inkus shuffles from his ledge and yawns, showcasing sharp, tiny teeth. His canines are considerably longer than what Shiro expects would be considered normal. 

Shiro sighs again, running a hand through his hair. He opens his mouth to speak when Lance shifts suddenly. Both paladins are up and at Lance’s side in an instant.

“Lance?” Shiro questions as he presses a palm to the blue paladin’s pale cheek. Lance’s brow furrows and he groans, low and almost inaudible. His head shifts, rolling away from Shiro’s hand before Lance goes still once more. Keith looks on anxiously when Lance doesn’t respond any further. Shiro sits back on his heels, slightly worried that Lance isn’t responding. He looks up at Keith, once more recognizing the look on his face.

Guilt.

“Keith, you didn’t cause this,” Shiro says, longing to reach out to lay a hand on the red paladin’s shoulder. He’s not sure how the young man will react right now though.

“If I had only ran away when you had said to instead of arguing with him over something stupid, like he was right about it being a dragon, Lance might not be hurt,” Keith says lowly, his hand gripping his forearm harshly. 

“Ughhhh,” Lance grumbles below them.

“Lance!” 

Lance’s eyes are open barely, mere slits of ocean blue. He stares at Keith for a moment then rolls his head sideways, his fingers twitching from where they rest on his stomach. He mumbles something too lowly for them to hear.

“What was that, Lance?” Shiro asks, worried Lance might not quite be with them like last time he awoke disoriented. 

Lance blinks his eyes, forcing them open more to look back at Keith. “I…’m I dead?”

Shiro frowns, not quite understanding, “No buddy, you aren’t dead. What makes you think that?”

“Huh,” he huffs, blinking up at the ceiling. “It smells like home. And that’s twice.”

Keith frowns, looking around before look at Lance. He seems pretty coherent now, if not a little shaken and quiet. It’s a bit disturbing honestly. “Twice what?”

Lance’s lips stretch wide lazily, his head flopping sideways to grin at the red paladin. “You said I’m right.” Keith groans, pressing his hand to his forehead. Yea, he’s fine. “Shoulda had a recorder. I could listen to that all day.”

Keith moves away from Lance with a roll of his eyes. “Yea, he’ll be fine. I kind of miss the quiet already.”

Lance spends the next few moments just listening, trying to get his bearings and let his brain catch up with him. When he goes to sit up, and flinches with a gasp at the resulting pain, Shiro places a hand on his shoulder to try to ease him back down.

“Hey now, take it easy,” Shiro tries to placate him, but Lance grabs his wrist and forearm with a shake of his head. His eyes are watering somewhat. 

“No, need to sit up,” Lance says, trying his best to hold back the waver in his voice. His voice is rough and he swallows, his mouth no doubt dry. “It’s hard,” he takes a sharp breath and Shiro only then seems to register that his breathing is stuttering now that he’s awake, “to breathe lying down.”

Shiro nods and helps Lance sit up. Lance takes a deep gulp of breath despite the obvious pain it causes him. He pants for a moment, before his breathing quickly levels out. He hunches over, pressing a hand to his forehead. 

He’s silent and still long enough that Shiro worries he’s passed out again. Keith is watching him from afar with a tense look. Shiro can feel Inkus’ eyes burning a hole in his back from behind him, but he doesn’t spare the animal a look.

“How are you feeling?” Shiro asks when he notices Lance’s fingers moving in a pattern. He’s touching each fingertip to his thumb, probably counting in his head as he focuses on just breathing.

“Like a dragon tried to crush me,” Lance grunts. 

“A dragon did try to crush you,” Keith supplies from across the alcove. 

Lance squints at him before he sighs and drops his head again to a knee which he had managed to lift up. “That’s the damn point, mullet. God he’s so clueless.” He swallows again with a wince, “mouth tastes like I drank nunvil.”

“Language,” Shiro says with a soft smile, glad he’s feeling well enough to complain about something as trivial as Keith’s quirks. “You did throw up,” Shiro offers in explanation. “Wanna move? It’s not much, and probably uncomfortable in all honesty, but you can lean against the wall if sitting up helps.”

Lance nods after a moment, “Yea, just…give me a minute.” 

Shiro lets him have as long as he needs. He’s just glad he’s okay despite being in obvious pain. Eventually Lance looks up with a nod and Shiro helps him to his feet. He’s unsteady at first, but after a few steps, walks on his own carefully to a spot close by. Lance sighs as he leans back against the wall behind him. Shiro watches his face closely, noting it is pale, but has considerably more color than that terrifying moment when he collapsed in the forest. 

“Where’s Katli?” Lance askes after a moment of just listening to the sound of the raging storm outside.

Shiro takes up a seat beside him and Keith finally allows himself to relax some. It’s an unspoken relief that Lance remembers the disorienting moments of introduction and subsequent haze of their flight through the forest.

“She was summoned by what I’m assuming is their leader. She promised to come back,” Shiro follows Lance’s gaze to the white foam caps cresting over the waves outside. Lance shifts in an attempt to get more comfortable, but groans when he moves the wrong way.

“You okay?” Keith asks, his eyes sharp as he watches from a distance.

“Yea,” Lance breathes, holding a hand to his side. Despite having spent a good while unconscious, he seems ready to drift off again. “Just…not exactly the most comfortable thing in the world. Nothing seems to help.”

“Katli left some salve that might help,” Shiro offers immediately. His cheek doesn’t bother him at all now, and he feels fine, no adverse side effects. Lance hums, thinking a moment before nodding. He leans forward carefully, draping an arm over a knee as Shiro unzips his flight suit. Lance shivers once the cool air comes in contact with skin. 

Shiro removes the glove from his flesh hand as Keith brings over the salve. Keith watches as Shiro works the pale goo into Lance’s mottled skin. Keith would do it himself, anything to make the situation he caused better, but he’s already caused Lance enough pain. He doesn’t trust himself to not cause more.

Lance hisses at the first contact, but moans in relief after a few tense moments. “Man, that’s some good stuff. It’s like space icy-hot.”

Keith tilts his head, “Icy what?”

Lance turns his head to rest his temple on his knee so he can see Keith properly. “You know, icy-hot? It goes on cool, and then heats up. You use it for sore muscles and stuff.” When Keith shrugs, Lance mumbles something in sympathy, mourning for Keith who doesn’t seem to know what Lance it talking about. Lance was a trouble maker and prone to injuries as a kid; still is apparently. He knows all about using icy hot to relieve the pain of minor sprains and strains in an effort to hide the injury from his parents.

He found out much later it never really worked. His parents always knew. 

Shiro rations out what little salve they have just in case Katli doesn’t come back. Lance seems to melt back into the cave wall once his flight suit is zipped up again and he’s allowed to rest. They settle to wait out the storm and for Katli’s return in silence. It’s disconcerting that Lance would refuse to speak. Normally Shiro would welcome the respite, but his running mind could use the distraction. It’s back on a loop with the smell of the salve thick on his fingers, noticeable even through his gloves.

For a moment Shiro forgets about their guard, but when a soft chirp fills the cavern, he freezes.

  


* * *

  


The chirp that echoes off the walls surprises Lance. He jumps, hissing when the movement jostles his abused ribcage. He’d just been about to fall asleep and was relatively comfortable if not cold. 

The chirp is like nothing he’s heard before. There’s a roughness to it, but it’s still high pitched and somewhat clear. It’s too loud to be a bird and not quite the correct pitch either. It’s also coming from directly above him. Lance looks up slowly to see a set of glowing gold eyes staring down at him. The face is narrow, covered in pale fur, and has gargantuan ears that flop forward down towards him as the creature half hangs off the ledge.

The creature tilts its head and releases a questioning purr from its throat followed by yet another chirp. The purr makes the pieces fall together; Lance has heard the sound, once, on a documentary. It’s not exact, but it’s eerily similar to the sound of a cheetah chirp.

Lance gapes, unsure as to what exactly he’s looking at, when he notices there’s a silver cuff lining the edge of one ear that catches the faint flashes of light outside. It’s not a wild animal. Lance points up slowly and looks at Shiro, who shrugs with a shy smile at his forgetfulness, then at Keith who glowers at the ground. 

“Ah, that’s Inkus,” Shiro says at the creature moves to step down from his ledge. Keith bristles nearby, tensing and making a move to try to cut off the animal’s route before he can get close to Lance. It only prompts a snarl from the creature and a flash of surprisingly sharp, delicate looking teeth.

Lance stares unabashedly, taking in all the mismatched body parts that should not fit together, but do so seamlessly. He’s freaking huge for one, and his ears should be dopey looking, but his movements are fluid and match up. 

Lance reaches a hand forward. Keith makes a move to warn Lance, but Lance ignores him. The creature steps forward without a thought, past his offered hand, and sniffs at his clothed chest. It sneezes violently, ears slicked back so they rest along its neck. Lance tilts his head to the side to observe the nasty gash in its side, partially healed. He shivers, thinking of his own abused ribcage, and the creature must think he’s shivering from cold or something, because the next thing he knows, Inkus is crawling forward to put himself between Lance and the cave wall. 

Before Lance can protest or even blink, the creature lies down, curling his body so that should Lance lean back, he’ll be braced on his flank. The tail, no wait tails, come to rest across his lap and Inkus’ head rests on the ground beside his knee. The canine creature huffs out a sigh and stares out into the storm, content in his position as back rest, bed, and personal body heater. 

Speaking of, the thing puts out some heat!

Lance looks up to Shiro with wide, bewildered eyes and finds his expression mostly mirrored back. The outright dejected look that Keith gives them makes him laugh despite the immediate pain that explodes in his chest. “Aw, what’s wrong, samurai? Jealous of a fox?”

“A fox? Don’t get so homey with it, it’s one of our babysitters,” Keith spits, eyeing Inkus like he’s sizing him up. 

“Yea, have you seen many dogs with a tail this fluffy?” Lance pats a tail draped across his lap with awe, threading his fingers through the fur. The feathers that spike up from his shoulders color themselves a muted pink and blue, but Inkus doesn’t remove his eyes from the path that leads the way Katli had taken.

“Inkus is what our people call a lou’ree,” a voice calls out from the gloom. Keith immediately springs to his feet, his bayard transforming into his sword with a sharp burst of light. Shiro also finds himself on his feet, arm activated. The purple light makes Inkus bark in alarm, but he doesn’t move from his position. His tails flare up around Lance, as if he’s protecting him.

A figure approaches and raises a hand to the water below, which bursts into life. A wave, no, jet of water like that from a water gun, erupts from the dark depths, drenching Keith and Shiro. Keith shouts in alarm and Shiro’s arm sizzles as the water comes into contact with heat. 

“Priha, that was unnecessary, you doughty deity,” the voice admonishes half-heartedly. Lance stares open mouthed at the water, a pair of bright green eyes staring back at him. The eyes appear to be the size of his closed fist, and before Lance can make out anything more, the creature disappears beneath the surface.

“Katli had warned me you would be quick to draw arms,” the figure approaches, the voice is neutral enough that gender is hard to discern. They finally step close enough that Lance can make out their form. They aren’t very tall, but have hips a hair narrower than their broad shoulders. The figure stops a good distance away, tilting their hips in a manner that is decidedly feminine, “not that I would expect anything less of the Red Paladin. You may stand down.”

The figure is definitely female, now that she’s close enough, and her voice is strong, leaving little room for argument. Her dark hair is pulled back sharply from her narrowed, pale eyes. She cuts an imposing figure used to being obeyed as she stares at them, her prominent forehead furrowed as she studies them closely. Her skin tone is a little pale from obvious reasons, but appears patchy. 

As she draws even closer, Lance feels his mouth run dry. The shirt she wears appears to have been hacked off no far above her belly button, and while Lance feels like he should be impressed with the obvious six pack there on an older woman, that’s not what has his attention. 

She’s imposing in a different light now that the scars are visible. There’s a long narrow line, faded and old that cuts right across the top hem of her pants. The right side of her abdomen is a mess of knotted scar tissue and her skin appears patchy because it is. She has severe burn scars over the left half of what is visible of her torso and arm.

“My name is Inor,” she introduces herself with confidence. She steps forward to look at Shiro directly. The flashing lightning outside catches on the mess of freckles on her face. They’re purple and appear like she’s dusted blush across her cheek bones. The purple nadi flecks up her temples and down the side of her neck to slowly disperse over her collarbones. 

“Where’s Katli,” Keith snaps, because yes, he didn’t trust her, but he knows her a little better than he does this woman standing before them. A woman that looks very unworried to be facing down three (okay, two strong and one worthless) men while she is apparently unarmed.

“Katli was unfortunately ordered to stay at camp, red one. I’m afraid you ran the poor girl ragged. She nearly collapsed upon her return. She will return once the storm retreats in a few varga after she’d made herself more presentable and isn’t in danger of fainting. She informed me that you wish to start an alliance,” Inor cuts straight to the point. “I’m afraid you are rather late, Voltron paladins. There is very little of my people left to make any type of alliance that should be of any benefit of yours.”

Shiro eyes her warily, trying to think of what to say. Inor doesn’t sound very off put to the idea, but she certainly doesn’t seem to be jumping with joy at the prospect of aligning herself with them. 

“I will be honest with you; we came in search of survivors, not hoping for alliance, first of all. That was just wishful thinking on our part that if there were survivors, we could make something out of it. Our princess and her advisor were pretty adamant on knowing the fate of your people,” Shiro spoke reluctantly, wishing the comms were working enough to contact Allura from here. “I know for a fact, though, that even if you refuse to align with us, Allura will be willing to help to the best of her abilities to help you get back to your feet. I think it’s pretty obvious you won’t go running back to the Galra.”

Inor watches them passively, her stone set face turning slightly cold. “Obvious? We can’t hope to hold up any meager sort of resistance should they come back. They’ve killed over 95% of our population and have effectively made sure those left will die with the planet.”

She ignores Shiro’s violent flinch at his mistake and turns her attention to Inkus with a lazy slide of pastel purple eyes. The lou’ree perks up instantly, ears springing forward. Colors burst rapid fire across his feathers, which rise and fall with purpose. He chirps after their silent conversation, and then drops his head back to Lance’s side, pressing his nose to the Cuban’s knee.

Inor sighs, a small amount of tension leaving her tight set, broad shoulders. The woman looks like she could bench press Shiro; Lance still isn’t quite sure she is female with her muscle structure. She’s got very little feminine features other than her stance and way of moving as well as her name. “I’ll meet with your leader. On my terms, of course. Inkus says you appear trustworthy enough, and care for your teammate, and I trust him more than Katli’s naivety. Once the storms clear and I get in contact with our Guardians, you may instruct your leader to land.”

Lance blinks, leaning forward in puzzlement. “But Katli said there were no more Guardians.”

Inor casts him a blank look like he’s some ungodly stain on a priceless rug. “Katli’s mentors are lackluster at the best of times and may have a tendency to be flighty. But they follow orders. I can normally rely on them for that at the very least.”

Inor turns on her heel briskly, the tail of her ponytail swinging as she proceeds to walk away. “Katli will return shortly; I suspect the storm shall last another few varga or so, and even though I’ve given her strict orders to rest, she’ll be worried about you no doubt.” The lighting flashing outside lights up the mismatched skin that stretches over her shoulder. There is a streak of white in her hair that had been unnoticeable before, dispersed through her ponytail. “Inkus will remain with you until then.”

And just like that, Inor disappears with just as much subtlety as she had arrived.

  


* * *

  


The next few varga pass surprisingly quickly. Once their armor has dried out, it works to keep them warm in the cool coastal air. Inkus stays at Lance’s side, providing the injured paladin warmth and a soft resting place. Lance tries to pretend he’s sleeping most of the time, but Keith notices that he’s awake more often than not. He seems much more comfortable, but from time to time, he shifts and his breathing catches. 

Finally, the storm retreats, taking with it the dark clouds and rolling sea. The skies lighten considerably, but despite it being midday, the light outside is dim. Lance awakens at this point and manages to wander down to the edge of the drop off that leads to the grotto. Keith watches him closely. He’s moving slowly and protecting his ribcage with serious effort, but seems relatively okay. Inkus wanders to a far side of the cave, watching them all from the side lines. The water level has sunken a few feet with the receding storm, leaving behind crystal clear tide pools. Lance pouts as he stares at the pools of water, noticing a severe lack of animal life.

Inkus perks up, his head turning slightly. Keith notices the movement and stands. He forces himself to not grab for his bayard. The lou’ree chirps in what Keith assumes is a questioning tone and Keith tenses as the chirp is repeated in perfect pitch from around the corner. The fox relaxes though and wanders off to the answering chirp.

Keith looks to Shiro questioningly. Shiro shrugs, “I’m not that worried if he isn’t. He probably knows them.”

The person that comes around the corner, led by Inkus, is obscured by a hood, but the form is somewhat familiar. The short height and narrow shoulders don’t give away much, but the bow strapped diagonally across their chest is a tell all. It must be Katli.

She stops beside Lance who continues to pout at the water, “Well, you certainly look better!”

Lance visibly startles, looking up into the hood. His mouth drops open and he points a finger at her. “Holy crow, you’re not Katli. You can’t be. You’re too pretty.”

Katli laughs unabashedly, her head thrown back. When she smiles at him, it’s all pointy teeth and gums. “Thank you? Bathes do wonders for one’s looks, no?”

She removes the hood and Keith’s eyes are instantly drawn to the vibrant scarlet hair. It’s like a living creature all its own. It’s just as messy as before, but in a different way. At least now it looks somewhat tamed, brushed out so instead of piling on top her head, it crawls down her back to just below her shoulder blades in shifting waves of red, copper, and gold. Her hair is fire reincarnate, shifting and breathing like a wild mane. When she turns to look at him and Shiro, Keith feels his breath catch. 

He tries hard not to stare at the dark bruises under her pale eyes and the off pallor to her skin. She looks even worse than before.

That’s not what catches his attention though.

There’s a white feather earring hanging from the tip of one pointed ear.

She’s the girl from the video.

“You’re alive,” Keith’s thoughts tumble out of his mouth before he can snatch them back. Katli blinks at him, her face troubled.

“Yes, I am,” she affirms slowly as she shifts a basket in her hands with uncertainty.

“We received the distress beacon you and Isa had sent out,” Shiro steps in, hands raised in question when Keith refuses to elaborate. 

Katli’s face instantly sobers. “Oh.”

“Coran had said you probably hadn’t survived. We saw,” Shiro pauses, not sure how to quite continue.

“We saw her death,” Keith finishes blankly. Katli flinches at the word, the name not needing to be said. Keith has a feeling she’d been silently hoping that Isa had somehow made it out. “How did you get away? The Galra were mere ticks behind you.”

Katli shrugs, looking away and plucking at a corner of a blanket that peaks out from the basket. “I’m a fast runner.” She walks forward, motioning for them to sit. Shiro helps Lance over to them. Keith approaches, leaning against the cave wall as he watches Katli unpack the basket. There are thick blankets that have seen better days, but he won’t be picky. 

“I’ve brought things for you to make a fire as well, so you won’t have to spend the night in the dark and cold. I’ll go collect fire wood with you if you’d like, show you where the good dry wood is,” she pulls out what appears to be a fire starter of sorts. There’s also a few packages of what he assumes are food wrapped in leaves and several canteens of water. “And my friend should be here any minute to help me treat- “

“When I’d heard our sympathetic apprentice had picked up some humans and needed some help treating an injured one, I was worried,” a clear voice cuts Katli off. 

Lance squawks rather rudely. Keith is very tired of being surprised by these ninja walking freaks, but Keith assumes he shouldn’t be too ashamed of his inability to hear these people moving about when Katli jumps as well and Inkus bristles from snout to tails.

A figure is standing in the mouth of the cave, just far enough that Keith can’t make out their form. They slowly walk forward, angled in such a way that Keith knows they are ready for both flight and fight. 

“I supposed I was right to be leery.” The voice is vaguely feminine, and the figure is tall, with broad shoulders and narrow hips. Her sharp, dark gray eyes are glued to one person with a near hostile expression. “Your scent is very hard to forget. Champion.”

Beside him, Shiro is as still as a stone statue, his face pale and sweating like he’s seen a ghost. When he speaks, Keith supposes he has seen one. 

“Malea.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I’ve noticed a lot of authors lately have been posting something along these lines somewhere. I, as a young reader once, always hated it when authors would ask for comments and feedback on their work because it seemed like begging, but now that I’m on the receiving end I realize how important it is for that feedback.
> 
> So please, take a moment to drop a comment, or even kudos is oh don’t want to talk. Whether that comment is one word or something about a certain scene you liked or a character’s reaction, it is so great appreciated! Not sure what to type? Head smash the keyboard. Comments, kudos, likes, bookmarks, these are the ONLY way authors know if they are doing a good or even bad job. I will never hold chapters hostage for more reviews/comments/kudos, but I will be honest in that if I feel like this is not a well received work, I will stop writing it.
> 
> Thanks to Lethellia for the first comment and bookmark, and for the additional kudos that last chapter received, including the anonymous ones!


	7. Chapter6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Shiro is relieved, and somewhat nervous, that Malea is alive and Lance flirts unsuccessfully.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sooooo, life got in the way again. hehe, oops. writer's block has been a pain in the neck as well, so I've turned to some world building and drawing. I'm decent enough at it that I'm willing to share, so check out my tumblr for future updates regarding LLTS, as well as half-assed drawings of not only characters, but deities as well. Who knows, you might be treated to images of futures character not yet introduced.
> 
> [Tumblr](https://jinxetta.tumblr.com/)
> 
> I'm also going to start adding tags and triggers that pertain to each chapter in general at the beginning. I'm still learning what others may consider triggers, as I have very little triggers my self, so if you at any point stumble upon something that may deserve a warning, please inform me. I'll keep major tags attached to the description but each chapter will soon hold it's own. I'll be going back to do some minor editting on previous chapters to include warnings at the beginning of chapters
> 
> I've done moderate research on injuires and complications of said injuries, but in regards to my alien species, I'm making this shit up as i go :D so, yea, FLY BY THE SEAT OF MY PANTS WRITING
> 
> Warnings: Mentions/Illusions of torture and death, angst, mild descriptions of injuries, skeptical medical/science jargon

Lance’s squawk is certifiable, he assures you! These Dalquinians just keep popping up left and right without a warning, and Lance is fairly certain his heart is about to leap out of his poor, abused chest. Before Lance has a chance to really dwell on that though, his train of thought is derailed as yet another new person shuffles into view. 

He doesn’t care honestly if they are male, female, or both or even neither; there’s a haunting, dangerous beauty to them, and it’s most certainly not in the multitude of edgy piercings in the ears. There’s enough jewelry to cause the right ear to tilt downward just slightly. No, the beauty is in the high sculpted cheek bones, narrow face, and sharp eyes with the feline pupils that are currently narrowed to little more than mere slits even in the dark. The figure looks just as dirty as Katli first appeared, but that’s about where the similarity ends. This person is tall and all long lines and lean muscle with a long, ill-fitted shirt that is belted on around their waist with what appears to be a rope. 

The voice when they finally speak is rough, gravelly with disuse, but distinctly feminine if not a bit deep. Could have fooled him! With her broad shoulders, narrow hips, and flat chest, she looks male from afar.

Lance’s thoughts are yet again broken when Shiro speaks, his tone wavering and…scared? Alarmed? Lance has never quite heard that tone with their leader.

“Malea.” 

Lance is most definitely confused beyond belief. In the span of barely half a day, he’s had his ribcage nearly crushed, met a crazy forest girl who can control a dragon (Noctis his brain tell him, Noctis, don’t make him any angrier), met her terrifying leader who he is fairly certain can kill him thirty different ways with just her thumb, had Keith says he’s right for once (twice HA Mullet!), and found out Katli is the girl from the video. 

And now, he’s watching a show down between Shiro and a woman he evidently knows, but wishes he doesn’t? 

“Shiro?” Lance and Keith say at the exact same time. Lance has a brief moment where he wants to shout ‘jinx’ but refrains. No time for that Lance, this is serious. This ‘Malea’ looks torn between being ready to come at Shiro claws and teeth primed, to high tailing it out of there. Katli honestly looks too scared herself to do anything to stop the former from happening. Her hazel eyes look about ready to pop out her head and Katli’s pale skin, now clean enough to reveal heavy freckles on her cheeks, is almost greyed out in shock.

Keith’s look like he knows more than Lance and that only bothers Lance a little. He’s long ago accepted that Keith and Shiro have an unspoken deep bond. He does feel a little miffed at being tossed into this blind, but he’ll get over it. 

“You know her?” Lance finally asks when the tension becomes too much for him to handle. 

His question seems to snap Shiro to attention, “Yea. Malea. I-“ Shiro trails off and swallows. His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat. “You’re alive. I thought-“

Malea bares her teeth to silence him and holy crow, those fangs look sharp. Lance wonders how easily it would be for her to break his skin and leave a mark, and how long said mark would stay. 

“Thought you killed me?” Malea spits, finishing his sentence for him. The baby blue marks under her eyes (nadi, Lance’s brain reminds him) off set the unhealthy pallor of her skin, but bring attention to her dark storm grey eyes. The nadi stripes on the right half of her face scrunch up and morph, turning her once beautifully dangerous face into a gruesome countenance. 

Shiro flinches at the words and Keith steps forward to stand between them. Malea doesn’t pay the red paladin any mind. “Not for a lacking of trying,” Malea deflates somewhat, still just as unsure how to react to seeing Shiro as Shiro is unsure in how to react to seeing her. She rolls back her right shoulder, her face betraying a flash of discomfort before she carefully schools it back to watching them warily. She’s tilting her head to the right minutely. 

Shiro takes a step back at the sight of her discomfort, choking. “I’m sorry.”

There’s a tense moment between them before she sighs heavily and hangs her head. The tension is still there in her shoulders, drawn back and ready for flight. She looks sideways through the long bangs that hang over her right eye, her face carefully neutral. The ends are just starting to curl and need to be cut as well as washed, but the rest of her hair is shorn short, nearly to the scalp, except for a tiny white braid along her left temple that hangs to her chin.

“Can’t blame you. I’ve seen the video.” She’s keeping her sentences short and pausing in between them. She certainly does not appear to want to be here nor does she really want to talk. At Shiro’s confused look, she narrows her eyes even more, looking him up and down. 

“Video?” Shiro whispers. He looks horrified that there’s physical evidence out there other than the scars on both their bodies to show the horrors of what happened in that ring.

She scratches at the back of her neck, drawing attention to another set of nadi that run along her ulna: a simple line from wrist to elbow. While Lance only has met two Dalquinians, three if you count Isa, to compare Malea’s nadi to, she seems to have a good deal more than others.

“Yea…video…of afterwards when they…” Malea makes a vague gesture with her hands and with the movement, the remaining tension bleeds out of her form. She’s still wary, but she’s a good deal less hostile. Malea’s dark eyes watch the black paladin carefully through the ashy brown locks of her bangs. She doesn’t appear to be bothered by the slightly obscured vision. 

“But, I don’t understand,” Shiro presses a hand to his forehead and closes his eyes, his face pinched like he’s trying to remember. “Just…how? How did you survive? How did you make it out?”

“How did I-“ she repeats, tension back, but now she’s not wary. She’s angry, frustrated. “How do you think?! The druids don’t like to lose their play things, Shiro! You know that!” Lance is pretty sure if she had fur, it would be standing on end like a hissing cat. Malea inhales to go on, but when she catches the conflicted look on Shiro’s face, she pauses. She narrows her eyes at Shiro, her white pupils mere pin pricks. “You don’t remember.” 

It’s not a question.

“No,” Keith cuts in, his stance somewhat aggressive. “He doesn’t.”

Malea seems to finally notice that they have an audience and turns to look at Keith and Lance. She stares at them for a moment, and then catches the eye of Katli. Malea makes a noise of disappointment, or maybe frustration, before she seems to remember she was summoned here for a reason. 

“Whatever. I didn’t come here to fight,” she says in an exhausted manner. Lance believes it; she looks ready to pass out in a coma any second. Malea makes a motion towards them. Realizing she’s asking permission to approach, Keith steps back somewhat reluctantly. Malea approaches Katli and Lance, keeping plenty of distance between her and the other paladins. 

Malea crouches next to Lance, which allows him a closer look at her. Her ears are longer than Allura’s, just like Katli’s, but there are Nadi stripes that pattern them on top of the large amount of piercings she has. He’s not one to be ashamed of staring at a woman, but, as his gaze wanders lower, holy crap. Those legs, her thighs, or what he can see beneath the black shorts she’s wearing, look like they can snap his neck! 

Malea bristles uncomfortably under his gaze, but refuses to really look at him properly. She’s got her eyes on Katli. “You said broken ribs. What are we worried about?”

Katli immediately springs into action, kneeling next to Lance. “Well, with us, it depends on severity and how many broken. Lung collapse, flail chest, inability for the chest to expand.” Lance’s eyes are wide like saucers because that most certainly does not sound good.

Malea nods, her weight shifting her knees farther apart. She’s positioned herself crouched on the balls of her feet, ready for action. It’s a pose Lance knows is for flight. “Yes, as well as other organ complications. The heart wouldn’t be supplied with enough oxygenated blood due to the lungs inability to full expand; organs would start shutting down long term. Worst case scenario. Most times if it comes to that, it’s fatal.” She must hear Lance’s breathing turning fast and shallow, because she spares him a glance. “Lucky for you, humans have a much denser bone structure than us and those more severe complications are more common among our kind. And since you haven’t had any further complications in your haste to reach us, I’m assuming you’ve only cracked and bruised them. I’ll take a look just to be sure.”

Lance relaxes somewhat, because her eyes, while distant, don’t appear alarmed and she’s not rushing to do anything to stop any of those possible terrifying outcomes. Lance is certainly hurting, but he doesn’t feel like he’s dying. Katli taps his shoulder with a finger. Lance looks over his shoulder quickly, startled, and winces when the movement lights a line of fire that travels down his right side. Malea moves a hand forward, but abruptly pulls back, almost like she’s afraid to touch him.

Katli carefully pulls the zipper of his flight suit down. Malea eyes his bruised torso critically and grabs a jar beside Katli. She passes it to the younger girl, and leans around his side until her face is out of sight. Lance fights the urge to look at Malea, knowing it would twist his torso painfully. 

“Take a deep breath,” she instructs from behind him. Lance tries, but his breath catches in his throat and makes him cough harshly, bringing tears to his eyes. Lance hears Shiro say his name in concern. Katli’s ear twitches and Malea shuffles behind him. “Don’t hunch over, sit up straight. Breathe from your stomach. It will help.”

Lance tries again, but it takes several tries before he can take a deep enough breathe that Malea is satisfied with. The air changes harshly, a sharp charge to it like the moment before a lightning strike. Lance feels, for the barest second, like he’s standing next to an electrified fence, getting ready to touch it. His hair stands on end and Katli shivers. 

“Looks okay,” Malea says, and just like that, the air is flat again, just the tang of salt water to sharpen the air now. “I don’t think anything is completely broken through, just cracked and bruised,” Lance relaxes exponentially. “Human bones take a good deal to splinter.”

Katli’s eyes widen and she squeaks. Lance can’t help but blush at the adorable sound because, holy crow, he feels like his little sister is with him in that moment. 

“What’s so special about you?” He asks, eyeing Malea over his shoulder after twisting carefully. She finally looks at him instead of over him and his expression is surprised for a moment, because they both didn’t realize how close she is to him. Lance can’t help it, he really can’t; the words just come out. He grins. “Other than that spark between us, that is.” 

Katli chokes on her own spit and bends over, coughing violently. There’s a moment where he’s pretty sure someone has died (not Katli, because she’s still trying to breathe normally). The silence is dead and oppressive. Lance knows the look that’s on Shiro’s face.

Shiro groans his name and Lance is fairly certain he hears the moment Keith’s brain breaks. 

Malea stares for a moment, astonished perhaps by his boldness, and then her face goes carefully blank. She snatches the container of medicine out of Katli’s hands, and before Lance can so much as blink, she’s pressing two ice cold, goo slathered fingers into a dark bruise low on his side. Lance yelps and lurches forward, instantly grabbing his side. Lance only feels slightly betrayed when Shiro and Keith do nothing to help him.

“Malea!” Katli says in a tone that hints she’s used to this behavior.

“Yea. Totally fine.” Malea stands and stalks away, fingers clenching and unclenching. “That salve will work until he can get into a healing pod. You can give him undal for pain, one seed, every six hours.” The last part of the sentence is spoken in Shiro’s direction. Lance pats his side as Katli comes forward to inspect the area, happy that in her retaliation, Malea had chosen to prod a bruised muscle and not a rib. 

“Our bones are made of a material that can absorb and spread out impacts.” Katli says as she spreads the salve generously.

“Think very strong, extremely advanced cartilage. We bend before we break. Takes an enormous amount of pressure to actually do that, and normally when our bones break, they shatter more than snap clean.” Malea says from a distance away. She’s eyeing the water carefully with what Lance can only call a stink eye. 

Malea turns away from them, letting Katli tend to Lance, and proceeds to climb a ledge as far from the water as possible and out of ear shot of them. Inkus follows forlornly and looks up with a chirp of what Lance assumes is worry.

“Good going Lance, first you shoot out a deity’s eye,” Keith says, earning a sharp head turn from Malea. Okay, not out of ear shot. Apparently their long pointy ears have better hearing. “Then you get on the bad side of her.”

“Don’t take it personally,” Katli whispers as she rummages through her supplies. “That’s Malea. But I’d refrain from flirting with anyone else unless they do so first. You’ll probably insult our customs. Only five of us known survivors are unbound, excluding the children.” 

“Five?” Lance whispers, astonished at such a small number. 

“Yes,” Katli says brokenly. “Five.” 

“What happened?” Keith asks brazenly, to which Shiro frowns. The black paladin is distracted by Malea, constantly looking back and forth between Katli tending to Lance and the lone woman holding a silent vigil on her perch.

Katli brushes a long strand of rebellious hair out of her face, smearing some of the medical salve in it. It doesn’t seem to bother her. When she answers, it’s with a venomous bite that shows her displeasure at having to talk to Keith. “I believe you people call it genocide.” 

  


* * *

  


Shiro can’t breathe, he feels like there are tiny little hands grasping his lungs, pulling them down and digging their minuscule nails into the soft, tender flesh. All this time he’s been preparing a speech, trying to figure out just how to tell these people that he knew the fate of Malea, and yet…

There she is alive, breathing, watching him wearily when she thinks he can’t see, like he’s going to spring at her any second and finish the job. 

Not that Shiro blames her. His memories are spotty at best, but every now and then a tiny little memory pops up. More like an image, really, with tidbits of conversation filtering in and in that split instance, he can remember. They aren’t memories of them in arena, but rather of times he’s spent in the cells. He’ll go several minutes trying, and failing, to remember, and then be distracted, only for a memory to come back with no effort and no pain. 

It’s strange.

He can remember sitting in a cell, knees drawn to his chest as long, crooked fingers run over his exposed back. A sweet medicinal smell fills the air as Malea carefully applies a thin layer of cooling salve to a cut that stretches a good five inches across his shoulder blade. 

The salve Katli had given them and is currently rubbing into Lance’s mottled skin; it’s the same salve Malea had somehow pirated onto the ship. 

The memory is a brief glimpse, maybe three seconds, but suddenly he remembers a good deal more. It’s not much, but it’s enough.

It’s enough to know that the young woman sitting perched on her ledge has certainly seen better days. Katli had looked rough and worn, like she hadn’t slept or eaten properly in days and judging by her thin state, Shiro doubts they have much food to go around in the first place. 

In contrast, Malea looks like she’s come fresh from the fighting rings, high strung with a live current running through her, ready to tear into anything that poses a modicum of a threat.

He can’t remember details, but somehow he knows things he shouldn’t. She’s always been all lean, narrow muscles and long lines, with her broad shoulders and somewhat masculine figure. She’d been proud and confident in herself then, but used to working on a team so she didn’t take charge. Now she’s paranoid, looking around constantly for something to attack. 

Had he done this to her?

Shiro is startled out of his thoughts by Keith’s hand on his shoulder plating. “Hey, you okay?”

Shiro blinks and nods, “Fine. I just...I want to talk…”

Keith follows his line of sight, but it isn’t too hard to figure out where his mind is currently running. “I’d say she’s made it pretty clear where she stands on that.”

“Okay,” Katli says suddenly, leaning back on her heels. She’s zipped Lance’s suit back up and Lance is drinking carefully from one of the containers. “All of it,” the girl instructs when Lance makes a face. She sits back carefully, folding her legs under her awkwardly. Shiro sees the white of a bandage around her shin peek out. Shiro winces, knowing that he’s caused that injury.

“You’re hurt,” Shiro says, taking a step forward. Malea is there in an instant, blocking his path from Katli. He never heard her move. Her dark eyes are wide with worry as she looks between Shiro and Katli. When she notices that bandage on Katli’s leg, she crouches next to her, a hand hovering over it.

Katli draws back with a sharp breath, edging away from Malea’s slightly crazed look, “Its fine, just a bruise.”

Malea pulls away, biting her lip at Katli’s own look of uncertainty. She takes a deep breath and approaches more slowly. “Since when do you bandage bruises? Let me see. Your side too.”

Katli purses her lips like a petulant child, scowling at Malea. Malea pushes her back and reaches for the cloak that has kept most of the redhead’s upper body hidden until now. 

Katli leans away with a grunt. “I’ve got it. Quit mothering me,” Katli protests. She sets aside her bow with care.

Malea glares at her, darting a look to their audience. Shiro knows that look; she’s uncomfortable, but is jumping at a chance to distract herself. “Someone has to, you’re shit at taking care of yourself,” she complains. 

Lance grins at the exchange between the two females. Shiro feels a small smile come to his face too, because it feels familiar to him in a way. Malea notices a blanket in the pile of items Katli brought and she growls lowly, but her words hold little venom. “You took from my things, you sneaky little vorux.”

“Not like you’ve used it once since you’ve been home,” Katli answers tersely, nearly throwing her cloak to the ground in exasperation. Shiro watches Malea’s hands, observing how they shake slightly when she touches Katli’s dark shirt. She lifts the shirt carefully and Keith makes a noise beside Shiro at the movement, but Malea only lifts the shirt up to just below Katli’s ribcage. Half her stomach is still covered, and with her side presented to them instead of her front, Katli remains decent. The other half of her side reveals a large bandage taped in place. Katli replaces Malea’s hands on her shirt, holding it in place as Malea removes the tape and square gauze. 

Shiro catches the glimpse of a long gash and pale skin mottled with heavy bruising before Malea’s crouched form hides it from view. Malea makes a noise of what Shiro knows is satisfaction (again, how he knows slips his mind). 

“Well, it would do better if you would let me stitch it,” Malea grumbles to herself. 

Katli pales at the mentioning of stitches and goes to pull away. “Nope, lesson learned. Long time ago. I’m never trusting you with a needle again.”

Malea scoffs and grabs the younger one’s shoulder to stop her from pulling away. “Yet you turned out fine anyway. It won’t heal if you keep running around and opening it.”

The interaction between them is so routine and nonchalant that it’s easy for them to just watch. Shiro glances at Keith, who has turned away from the scene, but is still watching closely from the corner of his eye. He knows Keith is cataloguing everything they say for later. Lance looks ready to pass out again, but he looks considerably more comfortable than before with Inkus having returned to his side.

“You two seem to know each other very well,” Shiro says if only to break the silence. Malea’s form tenses again, almost as if she’d forgotten they were there. She glances at him, angling her body to face him at a diagonal instead of sideways. Her right ear twitches faintly, making the multiple piercings quiver.

“She’s my mentor, of course we know each other,” Katli says quietly, watching Malea closely with her hazel eyes.

Lance blinks and looks at Malea then back to Katli. “Mentor?”

Keith finishes connecting the dots first. “You’re a guardian.” 

“Close enough I suppose,” Malea grounds out enigmatically, baring her teeth in animalistic discomfort. She focuses almost too hard on the task at hand.

Shiro watches Malea’s hands as she moves about smearing ointment into the gash and replacing the wad of gauze with a new clean one. Her hands move with practiced ease and no longer shake now that she has a job to perform. 

Shiro’s thoughts flit to the time when her hands once weren’t so sure and gentle, back before they both had to learn how to bandage each other with what little they could find in the prison cells. 

His mind slams down on the memory just as quickly as the thought skitters across his brain. How can he remember things like that one second, related so closely to the darkest parts of being a captive, and can’t remember ever having a conversation with Malea about deities or guardians?

Shiro’s sense of time slips because when he tunes back in, Malea is standing in front of him, her dark eyes narrowed to dots and holding out the now empty basket to him. Shiro blinks and looks around, noticing Lance has been set up back on his previous ledge with most of the blankets and Keith sitting on the floor, watching him sharply. Katli is organizing their supplies, having put her cloak back on. There’s a small pile of sticks and tinder at her feet.

“Huh?”

Malea rolls her eyes at him, “Eloquent as ever. I said take the basket, unless you don’t want a fire. I’ll take you to gather more wood and also help you find a location to contact your ship. The red paladin mentioned you had yet to achieve contact with them after reaching the grotto.”

“It’s Keith.”

Malea ignores Keith and stalks away from Shiro after shoving the basket in his hands. He fumbles with it before he can drop it and glances at Katli. Malea is already disappearing around the edge of the cave entrance back from where they came.

“Shiro,” Katli calls just as he turns around to follow. Shiro pauses, turning to look at the red head. She looks a little uncertain, lost in the folds of her cloak. It’s much too big for her and has quite a few rips in it. He’s struck with how incredibly young she looks. Not in just her age, but in her mannerisms. It’s in the jittery and nervous energy, her almost too willing nature to inform them of her culture with barely any prodding. He’s seen it in Lance in his early time as a paladin. 

She’s trying to disarm herself, to make herself seem more human and friendly. She probably doesn’t have many friends left if the hints she’s dropped at their surviving numbers are true. “Please...I don’t know what happened between you, but...Malea isn’t…Just be careful. I only just got her back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please, take a moment to drop a comment, or even kudos if you don’t want to talk. Whether that comment is one word or something about a certain scene you liked or a character’s reaction, it is so greatly appreciated! Not sure what to type? Head smash the keyboard. Comments, kudos, likes, bookmarks, these are the ONLY way authors know if they are doing a good or even bad job. I will never hold chapters hostage for more reviews/comments/kudos, but I will be honest in that if I feel like this is not a well received work, I will stop writing it.


	8. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> late update again. Let's just say I'll update this when I have time XD. Which brings me to this. This is the last chapter I have typed up, ready to post. When the next chapter comes out really depends on feedback, since comments, kudos, and such feed the muses that be. 
> 
> I've been updating my tumblr somewhat regularly. You can actually expect to find sketches and drawings there of not only Malea, but Katli, Noctis, Priha, and other guardians at some point.  
> [Tumblr](https://jinxetta.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Warnings: mentions of violence, angst, possible language

Shiro follows the path back to the edge of the forest. Malea is waiting there, her arms crossed, staring off into the dark of the trees. She appears to be watching for something out there, but when Shiro approaches her left side, she turns to face him. He takes a moment to study her up close without feeling conscientious about it now that they are alone. She actually lets him and starts taking in his own appearance no doubt. The tiger stripe nadi that cover the right half of her face are new. There are four of them, like a set of claw marks that cut across her eye and lips. The skin appears flawless and the only thing off about the markings is they appear to be a darker blue than the nadi patches under her eyes. 

Before he can make a comment, she turns sharply and starts walking away brusquely. Shiro scrambles to keep up, noting she turns away from the water’s edge to lead up the tree line. The ground starts to slope up hill and before long, turns rocky. Thunder rolls ominously in the distance and Shiro can see dark clouds amassing.

“Why is the weather here so turbulent?” Shiro wonders out loud.

“The deities are doing what they can to protect what’s left,” Malea says ahead of him. “The storms mask any energy signatures and prevent the Galra from coming back, but it’s at a high cost. The deities can only hold them long enough for a few days at a time before they stop. It unfortunately also shuts down what little we have left of our own technology.”

Shiro turns, watching her movements. Malea used to move with a strange grace, each movement connected to one another like a dance well-rehearsed. Now she jerks and twitches at key moments, her steps are altered and she seems to list to the right slightly. She’s holding her head in a way as if her ear hurts, tilting it so the long heavy earrings of her right ear flutter in the wind. Shiro can see even more new Nadi that stripe the back of her ears. The intricate tribal tattoo on the back of her neck is the same though, mesmerizing in the delicacy of the lines. He catches himself following the marks, similar in outline to a Geisha’s neck makeup, but so much more.

“You never told me you were a Guardian,” Shiro starts as she leads him to a copse of trees that appear ready to collapse. It’s surprisingly protected against the elements. Most of the trees, also much smaller than the towering giants of the deep woods, appear dry despite it having stormed through out the early morning.

“We really didn’t get to talk much in the cells between fighting for our lives and everything. Neither you nor I were very interested in giving anything” Malea snaps irritably, refusing to look at him. Shiro bends down to start collecting stray pieces of wood, selecting an array of kindling and large timbers that should burn longer. The silence is palpable.

“Malea-“

“No,” she snarls, whipping around to face Shiro with venom blazing in her dark eyes. Her eyes are wild, like a caged, rabid animal ready to snap. She obviously knows what he wants to discuss. She teeters, a hand coming up to her temple with a wince and Shiro steps forward to brace her when she appears she’s going to fall.

She balks at his touch as if he burned her and hisses, crouching down into a defensive position as she eyes his arm. Shiro freezes, eyes wide as he can barely comprehend that someone is this afraid of him.

“Don’t,” she takes a deep, steadying breath and runs a hand through her long bangs. “Don’t touch me,” she says sharply. Her fingers catch on what Shiro assumes are knots. The sleeves of her baggy shirt shift, revealing an arm marked with dozens of tiny red dots. Shiro balks, not having noticed them before in the dark of the cave. 

Malea sees what he does and tenses, scrambling to lower the sleeves in an effort to hide the evidence. 

“What did they do to you?” Shiro whispers, raising a hand. He pauses when he notices her shifting away warily even though he really had no true intention of touching. Not after that.

“What does it look like? Druids got bored when I stopped caring.” She looks away, eyes lost. Shiro knows that look.

“Malea,” he holds his hands up at her warning glare, “look, I know you don’t want to talk about it. But please…give me something. _Anything._ ”

Malea looks off into the distance for a long time. “What do you want me say, Shiro? Do you want to sit around a fire holding hands while I tell you all about the horrible things they’ve done? The things they made me, made us, do?” She whispers vehemently, her fingers gripping her biceps hard enough that he’s worried she’ll puncture her skin with her claws. “Some things are better left in the past where they belong.”

“Do you really think I _want_ to know?” Shiro questions brokenly. He really doesn’t. Looking at Malea now, he realizes that his lost memories are somewhat of a blessing. But, he _needs_ to know. 

She stands taller and walks away, heading deeper in the forest. Shiro looks down at his clenched hand, raising the arm that was given to him by his tormentors to glare at it. Not for the first time, he wants to rip off the blasted thing and be done with it. 

Shiro eventually sighs and wanders in the direction Malea left. She hasn’t wandered far. He finds her standing beneath a tree, gazing up into the teal branches. Her hand is pressed against the black bark, fingers tapping restlessly. Her ear twitches at his approach, but that’s the only movement she gives to let him know she’s aware of his presence. Shiro turns his gaze to where her attention lies and can’t see anything. He swears for a moment he sees a pale figure dart into the upper branches, but Malea says nothing and there is not a single disturbance of leaves to give away that anything was there before.

Malea grunts something and turns back to Shiro. “Come on, the only place you’ll be able to get a clear enough signal to contact your crew is the cliff top.”

Shiro hesitates, looking to the trees again, but he’s quick to follow Malea’s fleeing form. She’s moving with a purpose now, back the way they came. Once they come out from the trees, she leads Shiro back up the rocky incline. She pauses when they reach an area she deems good enough and nods to Shiro. Shiro walks forward to the cliff edge, not daring to get too close. The view is quite spectacular and any other day, Shiro might take a moment to enjoy it 

Shiro turns to look back at Malea as he fiddles with his helmet, not quite ready to contact the castleship. The sooner he does so, the sooner Malea will deem their alone time over and bring him back to Lance and Keith. 

“Katli says she just got you back.” He can’t help it; he feels like a child, burning with questions unanswered. It’s eating away at him. “How long have you been home?”

Malea’s hands clench and her gait falters as she trips. She corrects herself quickly enough and leans warily against a large boulder. The ground around them seems to be made of a series of steps, carved out carefully. “Shiro…please. Not now.”

It’s her tone, pleading, that makes Shiro stop and think, makes him realize he’s being selfish. If Katli’s words hadn’t tipped him off, the needle marks on her arms are another giveaway. Shame colors his cheeks and he looks away. He’d made a mistake; she’s been home a few weeks at best. When Malea offers no words and the tension refuses to ease between them, Shiro grunts.

“When can I tell them to expect an opening to proceed? And where?”

Malea’s relief is easily visible. It’s an easy question with an equally easy answer. “Tomorrow, probably around mid-day. They’ll know when they can land. The cliffs have a flat area a short ways from here that I know Inor will prefer. It will make it easy for the deities to gather and the area is large enough for large aircraft to land.”

Shiro nods and raises his hand to his helmet, listening to the comms click on. Static, thick and broken, fills his ears and he groans. Upon Malea’s questioning look, he shakes his head.

“There’s still too much interference.”

Malea tilts her head to the right until it’s nearly parallel with the ground. Then she sighs and steps forward uncertainly. Shiro holds perfectly still as she gets within an arm’s reach. She’s staring at his helmet and before Shiro can properly comprehend what happens, she’s flicked a finger against the plating of his helmet over his ear. 

An electrical shock runs through him, small with barely any bite to it like static electricity, and suddenly the static is gone completely. 

Malea turns and drifts back to her post at the boulder, waving at Shiro. “Let me know when you are done. And Shiro?”

Shiro turns to look at her over his shoulder. Her broad shoulders are a tense line and his eyes are drawn to the sharp contours of the nadi marks on her neck. “It doesn’t help,” she whispers, as if she knows exactly why he needs to know about his captivity. “It doesn’t make the nightmares stop. It only makes them haunt your waking moments as well.”

* * *

Keith watches as Katli makes herself busy, finding things to organize and bustle about the cave. She’d started the fire earlier, its meager light offering very little other than to light the cavern. It’s okay for the time being, Keith supposes. Katli’s movement is the aura of a nervous person, her fidgeting born probably from being stuck with him and Lance in the cave. Or maybe just him, since he can’t help but watch her closely. He still can’t bring himself to not keep her in his sights, like he’s ready for another attack. 

Keith glances at Lance leaning against the cave wall, tucked in the borrow blanket. His armor is set in a neat pile beside him. Keith had made sure to put his bayard within arm’s reach even though he knows the blue paladin is probably feeling too wrung out to think about moving even if he has to defend himself. Katli had said she didn’t control Noctis’s every move; Keith knows this Priha is lurking around watching them, so he definitely doesn’t want to be caught off guard if that deity decides it wants a piece of them as well. 

“So how are you feeling?” Katli asks from her position down by the water’s edge. She’s tossing what appears to be some kind of meat into the water and Keith bristles. It has to be Priha she’s feeding, hiding beneath the waves, waiting for a chance to strike. 

“Been better, but whatever you gave me seems to be kicking in,” Lance says quietly from his seat. He leans his head back against the cave wall and closes his eyes. “I’m a little dizzy though.”

Katli gets to her feet and dusts her hands off on her cloak before walking to Lance’s side. She raises a hand to place it on Lance’s forehead when Keith snaps his wrist out to grasp hers. 

Keith glances at her hand, noticing numerous tiny nicks and scars littering her fingers. She’d make for a poor swordswoman if she can’t care for her hands. She hisses, her hand twitching when he tightens his grip and Keith realizes belatedly that he’s grasped the hand with her runes. He can feel the markings on his fingers, warm beneath his touch like a fresh burn. He’d taken his suit’s gloves off some time ago when the damp air made the material stick to his skin. Keith can’t really bring himself to feel much remorse when she’s glaring at him like that.

“Watch it, Red,” Keith throws her personal nickname for him right back at her, feeling smug at her stormy look. “I don’t trust you yet.”

“Keith,” Lance starts, “she called Noctis off before I could become a pile of ashes, got us to safety, spoke on our behalf for her leader, and gave us supplies when they obviously don’t have a lot. What more do you want from her?”

“An explanation,” Keith snaps, releasing her hand when Katli starts pulling back with a wince. She cradles the wrist to her chest and Lance leans forward carefully to inspect the red mark of Keith’s hand.

‘Fragile, bird thin wrists. And she’s supposed to become a guardian,’ he thinks, an ugly unidentifiable emotion settling in his gut. 

“What do you want me to explain?” Katli nearly snarls and Keith grins. He was hoping for some fire from her. He’s glad to see red heads here aren’t much different than the sterotype back home. He’d seen that temper before and this subdued, meek little girl before him most certainly doesn’t suit the girl who stood before a dragon who was under her beck and call.

Plus, Keith needs to let off some steam and who better than her. If he can’t fight her, he’ll sure as heck get some information from her.

“What happened here?”

Katli looks nervous, leaning away and glancing at the water with wide eyes. “What?”

“Keith!” Lance exclaims, trying to sit up further, but hissing with he can’t move quickly enough.

“You heard me,” Keith takes a step forward and Katli visibly bristles against his looming figure, rising to her feet under his intense stare. “Tell me what happened. We want an alliance with you, but I won’t let Allura jump into this without knowing how the Galra found you and why they decided to kill everyone instead of enslave you.”

“I-“ Katli swallows, a shiver running through her frame. She looks even more like a child under that much too large cloak. He sees her gather herself, sees the deep breath she takes, and watches her lips move with some kind of chant or something in an effort to calm down. She’s evidently aware of her temper and quick to wrangle it in. She reminds him of someone who bottles everything up, some who tries to be small so she can go unnoticed and sit by day to day.

Again, the question of what kind of guardian she’d make runs through Keith’s head.

She sighs, wilting under Keith stare and reaches up with her hands to run her fingers through her hair. She sits down at Lance’s feet and begins plaiting her hair with fingers that are nearly a blur. She reaches the end of her hair and undoes the braid and starts again, this time taking a smaller lock of hair and starting a series of tiny braids. 

Lance is entranced, eyes wide, “Wow, you’re good.”

Katli glances at him, a secretive smile twisting her lips. “Braids are important in our culture.”

“Quit beating around the bush,” Keith snaps. Katli looks at him in confusion, her brow furrowed.

“But, we’re in a cave? There are no bushes here.”

Lance laughs abruptly and immediately regrets it when he doubles over with a groan. 

“Lance,” Keith sighs.

“I’m okay,” he wheezes in response. Once he’s caught his breath, he looks to Katli. “But Keith’s right. It’s an Earth saying, basically means stop avoiding the question.”

“Oh,” Katli whispers and then makes a noise deep in her throat. It’s a growl, deep from within her chest and is so animalistic Keith wants to jump a little at it. Inkus chirps in response, but Katli ignores him. She reaches up to undo her braids and stares out of the cave mouth. 

Lance is finally one to break the silence. “Your planet…it’s very similar to ours, Earth. Water’s a little weird in color, but when it rains here, it’s actually water. Coran said rain on Altea was hurtling fire rocks.”

Katli snorts, her cheeks flushing bright blue at the sound and Lance grins, glad to have brought a more pleasant look to her face. Keith watches her in the flickering firelight. The light plays tricks on the thick freckles that mottle her cheeks and thin nose, drawing shapes that dance like wild things across her rough skin.

“Oh dear, not here! Flaming rocks normally means the Olrizk are migrating. We tend to avoid them at that time; they’re terribly volatile. No, it’s much quieter over here, I’m afraid.”

Lance looks to the water over the edge of the grotto, drawing Katli’s attention. “Very quiet, almost lifeless, though. Areas like this have tide pools that teem with life back home. And the wind?”

Keith frowns at Lance before it dawns on him; he’s trying to draw her walls down. Tit for tat, so to speak. Lance is good at that, getting others to get their guard down with his rambling.

“Ah, yes,” Katli goes still, turning her attention to where Lance is gazing. “The whole planet has fallen into a stasis of sorts. Most animals are hiding, deep in the forest or seas, as the planet and deities struggle to find balance.”

Katli offers very little else in terms of useful information. Keith lets out a breath of frustration and picks up his helmet, turning the comms on to listen to the endless static. It’s better than listening to the oppressive silence here and the emptiness in the back of his mind where Red normally hums.

“Are you worried about the Red Lion?” Keith snaps to attention, glaring at Katli. She flinches under his gaze, adverting her eyes. “Priha says she is fine. Untouched. Her particle barrier is up and holding, she should be able to connect you once more once the storms dissipate.” 

“Don’t you think this all a little convenient?” Keith snaps. He’s more than a little unnerved that she seemed to have read him so easily. “You hurt Lance, hole us up in some cavern, with an invisible deity, who for all we know is not real, to play guard while you take away our leader and possibly plan an ambush. You’ve already almost killed Lance, what’s next?”

Katli says nothing to his accusations, but she certainly looks guilty. 

“Keith, stop it! She’s obviously sorry for what happened and you heard Malea earlier,” Lance protests, sitting up and inching forward. “She brought us a lot more than what she needed to, in order to make sure we’re comfortable.”

Whether her guilt is for Lance’s condition or if she really is planning something, Keith isn’t sure, but he can’t take that chance. Shiro may have some trust in these guys, but Keith sure doesn’t. 

There’s a noise, a sharp whistle so high pitched, Keith can barely hear it. The darkness outside has grown and the water is turbulent. It swirls around the little pool ominously. Keith raises his sword when he realizes the restless waters are not from the weather alone. There’s a figure rising from the water, sleek and shiny with scales and looking at him with massive glowing green eyes. 

The sharp whistle cuts the air again and a tidal wave of water crashes down on Keith, bringing him to his knees. There’s a cacophony of sharp chatter and twittering that echoes loudly around them. Keith looks up to see Katli grinning at him unabashedly and the head of a massive serpent-like creature beside her. She’s barely as tall as the creature’s snout is long and the creature, which Keith can only assume is Priha, is making the sharp whistles and chatters.

Lance gawks before bursting in raucous laughter.

“Ha! You just got owned by Nessie!”

* * *

Shiro stares out over the cliff. Contact had been brief, but Allura had been more than just a little relieved to learn that Lance is no longer in danger. She still doesn’t like the situation, but understands there is little to do about it without invoking the anger of Inor. Shiro has a feeling Inor is not going to be easy to sway should she choose to treat them as anything but allies.

Shiro supposes the view would be a stunning one on a good day, but all he can see is water that is much too still and clouds that are too dark. The wind comes and goes in great gusts that ripples the water and then dies. There are no sounds other than the whistling wind, distant promise of more storms, and faint occasional crash of surf. 

It’s eerie. 

“Let’s go.”

Shiro jumps and turns to face Malea, who’s watching him warily. She’s angled in a way that will allow her to be at a hasty retreat, her weight shifting unsteadily to the balls of her feet but stays still when he approaches.

Shiro watches her fingers as they tap a pattern out on her elbow. Shiro stops a few feet in front of her. He’s trying to figure out a safe topic he can bring up, something that won’t trigger her raw, too fresh memories.

“I didn’t know that druids made it a fun habit to dye hair,” he comes up with lamely. Malea’s eyes narrow and she looks up at him, her thin face confused before Shiro gestures to his forelock of white hair and her braid. She reaches up to gently touch the white braid at her left temple before she scoffs. 

“What?”

She steps back and for a brief moment, he recognizes that look in her dark eyes. Amusement. For the first time in days, Shiro feels what must be hope in his chest.

_“Enjoy your new cellmate, Champion. I’d watch her teeth, they’re sharp.”_

_“I’ll show you my teeth, come here so I can rip your throat out!”_

Shiro shoves his palm against his brow, grunting in pain at the explosion of sound that erupts in his mind.

_“We match.”_

_“I fail to see how exactly.”_

“Shiro?”

Shiro’s eyes snap open and he stands abruptly from his hunched over position. He can remember it now, their first meeting. Malea dragged into the cell, Galra blood staining the front of her chest and mouth in a macabre picture. They’d spent most of the first night glaring at each other in distrust from across the cell until Shiro had noticed the braid.

“I’ve told you that before,” Shiro manages to rasp out.

Malea’s face pinches, her body leaning back away from him. Her sharp teeth worry her bottom lip. He can’t remember how many, but he knows those teeth have done damage to more than just one guard who’d dared to stray too close. She’d been near feral in those cells when left too long and the guards treating her like an animal had not helped at all. Shiro had managed somehow to bring her back to a somewhat normal mind set. 

“Yes,” she says reluctantly. “In a way, I suppose you have.”

“I’m sorry,” Shiro says quickly, knowing he’s opened an old, gaping chasm of a wound. Had he remembered the significance of that tiny white braid, he would have kept his mouth shut. “This is…this is why I have to know. I have to fix this, Malea. Please.”

Malea only stares at him, her dark eyes cloudy like the skies above them the only sign that she’s thinking. Shiro cannot tell if she’s perhaps caught in a memory like him, but she carefully schools her face into stone.

“What happened,” he implores. There’s a flash of something in her eyes, a glimpse of anger. He’s seen that look in Keith, mere seconds before he falls into a rage. He’s also seen that look break opponents down in moments, borne from a life of fighting, honed in the arena. Now that he knows more about her background, he knows now why exactly she excelled in the arena from the start; she’s been trained as a warrior from early on.

“Just leave it alone, Shiro,” she grounds out through clenched teeth. Shiro can see her muscles flexing on her neck as she swallows and grinds her teeth. “You really should be focusing on more important matters, like this alliance your leader wants so badly. Inor is not easily swayed in the best of times, and this is certainly not one of those times.” 

“She’s not going to accept our alliance?” Shiro asks, slightly worried they’ve already lost a battle without even knowing it.

“All I’m saying is that you’d better have a damn good offer on the table when we meet tomorrow. Because simple ‘protection from the Galra’ won’t be enough. We’re a doomed race Shiro. Inor will only see the return of the Galra a quicker means to the end.” 

Malea stares at him for a long time, long enough that Shiro takes note the storms are approaching once more. She turns abruptly and slinks off, leaving Shiro to scramble after her once again. She picks up her load of wood, tucking it under her left arm, and waits for Shiro to gather his own supplies. 

They don’t speak on the trek back. They barely even look at each other. It’s not until they’re standing at the mouth of the grotto that she pauses. 

“Her name,” Malea starts, swallowing tensely. “Come to me when you remember her name.”

She leaves Shiro standing there in the drizzle, even more confused than before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please, take a moment to drop a comment, or even kudos if you don’t want to talk. Whether that comment is one word or something about a certain scene you liked or a character’s reaction, it is so greatly appreciated! Not sure what to type? Head smash the keyboard. Comments, kudos, likes, bookmarks, these are the ONLY way authors know if they are doing a good or even bad job. I will never hold chapters hostage for more reviews/comments/kudos, but I will be honest in that if I feel like this is not a well received work, I will stop writing it.


	9. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yet another deity is introduced! Hope you guys are following along decently!
> 
> HUGE thanks to Ega, who commented on every chapter and fueled me to not only finish this chapter, but write up half of the next one, and 4 scenes from later in the story!

Lance is staring, he knows it. He’s staring hard, too, and can’t tear his eyes away from the creature that hovers around Katli’s form like a mother protecting an infant. Priha’s head and neck are the only part of her visible in the dark of the grotto, the rest of her body being hidden beneath the waves, but Lance is awestruck.

She’s the Loch Ness monster, there’s no other way to describe her. She’s all sleek and smooth, shiny skin with an arrow head. Her ears are adorable as they flicker about, like tiny little Hippo ears. Keith’s eyes are trained to them every time they move and he looks torn between wanting to yell at the deity or slink away with his tail between his legs. There are spines that travel down the back of her neck that flicker just like her ears, rising and falling. Delicate looking, opaque membranes branch between the spines. The frills are floppy in the air without the water to hold them up, falling about her in lopsided ways.

Lance thinks she’s stunning in the open, but he can barely begin to imagine what she must look like underwater. 

Priha’s tongue tastes the air, forked and flickering like a snake’s. When she pulls back her lips, she reveals thousands of tiny needle sharp teeth and a voice that chitters at Keith’s sour look. Lance makes a noise of want and leans forward, drawing Priha’s attention. 

“She’s beautiful,” Lance whispers, and no, he really is not trying to impress anyone this time. 

He’s just in love with the Loch Ness monster, which preens and twitters her dolphin chatter at his compliment.

Priha moves and Keith scrambles away as the massive creature rises from her body of water. 

“Gah! Priha! Careful!” Katli shouts as she too scurries away from the edge to avoid the deity and subsequent wave of water her approach brings. 

“Fuck! Lance!” Keith is somewhere far off in the opposite direction, but Lance see’s the flicker of red from his paladin suit.

Priha fills the cavern until she’s all Lance can think of, hauling her upper half from the pool with stubby muscular legs that show case an impressive pair of webbed talons. Fins run down her neck, two sets, to connect at the base of her shoulder blades. Lance thinks he can see the fins branch down her rib cage, surrounding a large dorsal fin, but much of her still remains hidden. 

Inkus gives a hiss as Priha draws close, curling away from the deity. Priha bobs her head, her orb like, sea green eyes glimmering as she flicks her tongue against Lance’s cheek. It’s startling cold and raspy against his skin. She croons, tilting her head to bump her snout against his cheek. Her skin is textured smooth like glass and soft, just like the skin of the animals back home that her calls mimic, despite the fact he can see the tiny bump of what are no doubt scales. Her gentleness is surprising for such a large creature. 

Inkus doesn’t appreciate it all the same. The lou’ree beats a hasty retreat when the deity’s flickering fins threaten to get him wet.

Lance watches in even further astonishment as Priha’s fins begin to glow faintly, highlighting the sparse markings that cover the dorsal side of her neck. She looks like the seafloor with markings of swirls and waves breaking her outline like eddies in the sand. 

“No! You cannot keep him!” Katli calls from somewhere to Lance’s right. He can see the flash of her red hair as she struggles to edge around Priha’s colossal form. Priha’s spines light up rapid fire and Katli cries out in indignation at what is no doubt an insult.

“I don’t compliment you because your head is big enough!” Katli appears crawling over Priha’s neck, taking care to not stab herself on the fins that have retracted to make sharp spines.

Lance can’t help it; the scene feels like it’s straight from a comic book. He laughs a deep throaty chuckle that builds, coming from his stomach. Even when explosions light up his battered chest, he still doesn’t regret it. He laughs until he’s coughing, wheezing and shaking. Priha twitters what Lance assumes is in a concerned manner. Lance smiles at her, strained, but nonetheless still heartfelt. 

The peace is shattered by a sharp voice, admonishing, “What in hell is going on here?”

Lance looks up, eyes wide as he struggles to catch his breath. Malea is standing in the path, eyes vicious as she glares at the water deity. Shiro is standing behind her, his shocked face looming just over the sharp point of her shoulder. 

“Your deity is out of control,” Keith snarls as he manages to squeeze pass Priha’s leg and rushes to Lance’s side. Priha hisses at the approach of the red paladin, spines rising in alarm. 

“Priha,” Malea starts forward with a warning in her voice. The deity hisses at her, spines rattling along her neck in warning. “If you cannot control yourself, I will find a use for your energy,” Malea grounds out, pointing a sharp claw out to the opening of the cave. The deity blows what Lance can only describe as a raspberry, but dips beneath the lip of the ledge to sink into the water. Her head hovers above the water, eyes, ears, and nose only seen, and Malea bares her teeth at her in animalistic disapproval, approaching the water’s edge. She pouts startlingly similar to a kick a puppy, maybe a Doberman or Rottweiler. 

“Go, patrol.” Priha dips her nose below the water, gives a sharp snort of bubbles, and then disappears beneath the waves. Her tail slaps the surface with a parting crest of water rushing towards them. Malea leaps to the side to avoid getting wet.

Katli is not as lucky to avoid the water. She is left soaking, shivering in her cloak as she holds out the folds, wild hair pressed against her face. “Why do you two never get along?” Katli grumbles as she unclasps her cloak, shaking out the water with little to no effect. She drops it next to the fire with an unhappy sound. 

Keith relaxes somewhat with Priha’s departure and Shiro’s return, but eyes Lance closely until the Blue Paladin waves Keith off.

“Why do you encourage her?” Malea grumbles as she drops a few branches into the fire. Shiro takes Malea’s extra branches from her and drops the gathered wood into a pile.

“I encouraged her to do nothing,” Katli flips her wrist in a dismissive way, twisting her hair over her shoulder to wring the water out. “She took it upon herself to investigate.” 

“Yet you certainly did nothing to dissuade her,” Malea snarls. Lance can feel the air turn sharp again, feel the tension crackling in the air between the two females. His chest is tight, like the animosity has become alive and is grasping him. “She has a duty and she knows it. You’d do well to learn from her better qualities.”

Katli’s face grows nearly as red as her thick hair and she looks fit to be tied, her mouth opening to protest. Lance shrinks back against the wall despite the discomfort his movement brings him. Keith must notice the twist in his face, because he reaches out to put a hand on Lance’s shoulder. This is certainly a conversation Lance should not be a part of; none of them, in fact.

“Do not,” Malea hisses, cutting off whatever Katli may have in response, “start.”

“Fine,” Katli relents after a tense moment of the two women glaring at each other, but Lance knows by her tone of voice that it is only a temporary truce. She’s making a tactical retreat to regroup and have the argument at a later time.

Shiro approaches Lance and takes a seat on the raised platform Lance has laid claim to. Inkus appears to want to return to Lance, but Malea calls him over to her instead. Keith edges closer to Shiro and the cavern is effectively filled with an oppressing silence as the group is divided. 

“How you holding up?” Shiro asks, glancing Lance over. 

“Better. Whatever they gave me is working,” Lance mumbles, his mouth gaping in a large yawn. “But I’m starting to get dizzy.”

Shiro frowns and touches a hand to Lance’s forehead. Lance glares at him halfheartedly. “I’m fine, dad.” 

Shiro chokes on his own breath and Lance can see Malea’s left ear twitch from her position. Her face twists into this weird expression before she carefully schools it. If Lance didn’t know any better, he’d say she was trying not to laugh. 

“That’s normal,” Malea says after a moment. She appears to be grooming the long feathers that crest Inkus’ shoulders. “It’s common for humans to experience dizziness and drowsiness when under the influence of our undal seeds. You had a very light dose, so I doubt it will get worse. But its best you eat now, and then try to get some sleep.”

Lance looks out the mouth of the cove with a frown. It’s getting dark again with the encroaching storms and the damp air, while comforting in a nostalgic manner before, is certainly now more of a worry. Even with the blankets, it’s going to turn bitterly cold. “It’s still daylight though.”

Malea shrugs. “The seed will make you sleep regardless. Best to just not fight it. I have to go take care of a few things.”

Shiro pats Lance’s shoulder. “Probably best to just do what she says. Not much we can do until tomorrow anyway.”

Katli looks up to Malea with a deep frown, “You’re leaving already?”

Malea gives the younger girl a blank look. “Yes, I must hold council with Inor.”

Keith looks to the older woman. He’s taken to sitting at the edge of Lance’s ledge, arms crossed as he leans back against the wall. For all his quietness, Lance knows Keith is paying close attention to the conversations going on despite looking very bored. “Why?”

Malea doesn’t spare Keith a glance. “You’re going to need my personal input if you want any hope of an alliance.” 

“No offense,” Keith says as he sits up, “but you look torn between wanting to rip Shiro’s other arm off and running for the hills. I don’t think anything you are going to say will be meant to help us.”

“Yes, well,” Malea passes a long, calculated look at Shiro’s right arm. “It wouldn’t be the first time the Galra have learned to control someone,” 

“You were supposed to relieve me,” Katli butts in before Lance can really think about the implications of Malea’s words. Her eyes dart to the path that leads to the forest and her fingers twitch. 

“And now I need you to remain here. Shouldn’t be that hard, considering how well you seem to get along with them,” Malea slowly stands. 

“But- that’s not fair! I need to–”

“Nothing about this is fair, Katli.” Malea’s face is stone set and cold, her eyes narrowed dangerously. She’s openly staring Katli down as if daring her to speak up again. “And you are needed here,” she emphasizes. 

Katli looks ready to start another disagreement, and Shiro shifts in discomfort at Lance’s side. Keith pointedly looks away.

“Do as you are told, Apprentice.” The way Malea says it, voice low and condescending, makes Lance know it’s a blow at Katli’s pride meant to remind her of her place. He’s received similar insults before.

Katli goes strangely still, her head down and knotted, wet hair shielding her face. Her hands clenched at her sides then go limp. “Yes, Mentor,” she whispers and turns to the fire, taking a seat, demurely reaching out for her cloak. Inkus goes to comfort her with a soft noise, but Malea calls him away. 

“Inkus, you are needed back at camp. Dalca calls.” 

Inkus instantly looks alert, long ears standing tall on his head and immediately begins to trot for the path leading towards camp. The lou’ree does not look over his shoulder when he disappears from sight and Malea’s own retreat is just as swift.

* * *

Katli spends most of the afternoon to herself. At some point she goes through the supplies she brought with her, giving brief, detached descriptions of the meager food she’s managed to pilfer. It’s mostly dried meat that turns out to be very bland jerky, but she has a few bruised fruits that she makes Lance eat. 

Keith watches her closely as she peels the tough skinned fruit for Lance, her claws required to pierce the thick skin. The fruit is vaguely lemon shaped, but the skin is a bright pink and the flesh a dark green when revealed. Lance takes a small piece to taste before deciding if he likes it enough to eat it whole. Lance’s face when he first tastes the fruit makes Keith lean forward. Lance coughs, which in turn makes him wince, but Katli doesn’t appeared worry. 

“Man, that’s sweet,” Lance grumbles, working his jaw. “I feel like I just swallowed pure sugar water.”

Katli nods, “I’m surprised I managed to hide it from Malea so well. It’s a favorite of hers. She normally sniffs it out pretty quickly.”

Keith quirks a brow at the statement. It’s hard to picture someone as prickly as the older Dalquinian someone with a vicious sweet tooth. 

“You guys have a good sense of smell?” Lance asks in an effort to start a conversation.

“Not all,” Katli shrugs, “I don’t for one. Pretty poor actually. It really depends on a keeper’s chosen deity. They gain attributes similar to their deity’s natural abilities. In general, even as kids, we have decent hearing and reaction speed, but that’s about it.”

Keith settles on the dried meat and after a while, Katli goes back to the fire. When the storms pick up again, she adds wood to the flames to make the fire larger. It combats the chill starting to settle from the damp ocean air and approaching darkness of night. She spends most of her time afterwards going through the wood, which Keith finds strange behavior before he realizes she’s picking out sticks that are good enough quality for arrow shafts. Keith watches her fingers as she uses a short knife to whittle at sticks that aren’t straight enough. She’s been taught well, even if her movements are rough and quick. She brings each shaft up to eye level and turns it several ways to check the balance and straightness on it. Once she has a nice pile of shafts, she pulls a small bag of feathers from the basket she’d appeared with earlier that day. She fletches the arrows quickly, but more often than not drops the feathers or takes them off to reattach them. Quite a few get tossed when her movements, obviously distracted, crumple them beyond use. 

Her movements, while practiced and engrained in muscle memory, are quick. She’s using the task to occupy herself, but her eyes give away Katli’s real desires. Even with the raging thunder and lightning outside, she constantly looks out into the storm. She wants to be out there. It’s dark, well into the night before Keith says anything.

“Who are you looking for?” 

Katli jumps and her thin cheeks flush a strange blue with embarrassment as she looks down at her hands. She runs her thumb over the pads of her other fingers. Keith catches Shiro’s careful, patronizing look and Keith shrugs, “What? She’s awfully anxious to get out there for simple survivors.”

“Keith,” Shiro starts, “you can’t just-“

“My brother,” her voice is barely more than a whisper, but it cuts through the air none the less. Keith hears Lance suck in a breath. He hadn’t even been aware the blue paladin was still awake.

“What makes you think he’s still alive?”

“Keith!”

Katli flinches at Keith’s words, but Keith is distracted by Shiro.

“That’s too far, Keith.”

“Its fine,” Katli says as she stands. She tucks her half-finished arrows in her quiver. “He has a point. Sen is very young to be out there.” When she looks up, her eyes are molten green fire, staring Keith down. “But he’s not alone. Noctis had contact with him last, and he was with Bali according to him. And he’s a son of Lye, he won’t give up so easily. I have faith in my family.”

Her tone of voice lets Keith know that he has indeed stepped too far despite her words. 

“I’m going patrol the beach line,” she says as she approaches the ledge that they had come from. 

Shiro rises to his feet at that, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Katli stops just before the curtain of water that the marks the edge of the protective walls of the cavern. “I don’t take orders from you. If I have to sit here any longer and wait, I’ll go insane.”

Keith rises to his feet as well to defend Shiro, “You don’t get to talk to him like that.”

Katli snarls, her thin, haggard face transforming into a gruesome countenance befit of a warrior despite her waif-like build. Her face isn’t nearly as animalistic as Malea’s is, a full-fledged keeper, but she still has the pupils and fangs of a predator. “And you don’t get to call the shots here. You want me to treat you like hostages? I can do that! Take the other path, but know our sentries will shoot you down if Priha doesn’t drag you into the water and drown you first!”

She disappears in to the storm and leaves them to their own silence. Shiro levels Keith with a look that makes him flinch and turn away abruptly. 

“Keith,” Shiro sighs heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers. He winces when the pinched skin pulls slightly at the healing burn on his cheek. “This has to stop.”

“What has to stop?” Keith crosses his arms, feinting ignorance when he really knows what’s going.

“I understand that this is a less than ideal situation,” Shiro starts as he approaches the fire. “But if we have any hope of some kind of alliance with these people, you really need to trust in me. I’m not asking you to make friends with them, but have a little faith in me. This is going to be hard enough as it is with my history with Malea should she choose to tell her leader about it.”

“And what is your history with her? You thought she was dead just a few hours ago.”

Shiro stares at the flames, watching them dance and leap with a pensive look. “I don’t really know, but it’s not exactly the best. All I can remember right now is that we shared a cell for a time.”

“You must know her well enough to know she’s got plenty of pride,” Keith offers, trying to extend a somewhat peace offering, remembering their conversation in the locker room. “What do you think she went to tell Inor?”

“There’s no telling what that woman is thinking even on a good day. I would like to think she’s trying to help us, based on what she told me of Inor. But she’s only been home maybe a week, so she could be talking us up or down,” Shiro mutters, rubbing a hand at his chin. He catches Keith’s inquiring look. “She was a favorite of the druids.”

Keith blinks, his brow furrowed and eyes trained to Shiro’s arm. He knows Shiro still has nightmares and suffers horribly from the lack of sleep because of said nightmares. Shiro never had time to process what happened, go through the stages of grief that most counselors on Earth would require him to, before he had to take up arms in this intergalactic war. He has a new arm, a weapon, and countless scars, mental and physical, to show case his captivity and subsequent torture. From what Keith can tell, Malea doesn’t have much physical evidence that could give away her own torture. 

It makes him wonder what the Druids could have possibly done to the Keeper that makes Shiro, dare he say it, wary of her. He sighs, thinking just how screwed they could be should Malea decide that they aren’t worth the risk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading this chapter!
> 
> Please remember to drop a comment, no matter how small, to show you're appreciation. It's the only feedback I can see for people who return to the story.


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